Who Plus Two and a Half
by LaylaPendragon
Summary: Layla in her search for Sherlock runs across another clever man with a distinctive neck adornment and coat. AU for my other stories; Spoilers for season two of Sherlock and series six of Doctor Who. T for now, but be warned it might change. Sherlock/OC
1. Surrey

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of significance**

**IN WHICH THERE IS A PROLOGUE, A BREAK IN AND A BIT OF TURBULENCE**

****ARCHĒ PROLOGOU****

The events following occur in an alternative reality to those canonized in _The Reichenbach Fall_ and those the current author created in the end of "The Funny Thing About Happenstance" and the entirety of "On and "On the Rabbit Hole Twists." The story picks up in the December following the fall with starkly different circumstances. Suffice it to say for now that the events atop St. Bart's did not go as planned.

****TELĒ PROLOGOU****

The night was blustery and more than brutal for December. Layla had been glad to find an open house, a cottage more like, and even more glad for its lax security. One picked lock later and she was inside the relative warmth of the single story home.

"Alright, where do you people keep your computer?" Layla tiptoed around the front room, a cozy sitting room with worn down couches and a lovely appealing fireplace.

"I'm going to light that next." She turned from the hearth and set her load down on the sofa.

"Should be fine there, now, on to the office. These people better have an office or a WIFI connection at least, otherwise I'm screwed." She left the homey atmosphere of the living room and crept through the nearest way. A bed room and a large one at that welcomed her along with an enticing flickering of green light.

"There you are you little effer." Layla sprung over to the small built in desk and pressed the power button on the ancient desktop. The monitor slowly illumined the room to display a tranquil garden landscape.

"Not even a passcode screen, wow, this place really is a quiet village." Layla clicked around the desktop until she brought up the internet listing. Sure enough they had wireless internet, but this time it was secured.

"Okay, okay. Need a password. You guys are pretty quaint, you probably have it written down somewhere." She switched on the nearest lamp and pulled open the surrounding drawers. No such luck. Sitting back up in her chair she spotted a small post-it note hanging off the bottom corner of the monitor.

"Ah ha, knew it." She snatched the note up and dashed back to the sitting room.

"Let's get to looking, shall we?" Her laptop was incredibly fast, which was lucky for her, although not particularly due to fortune. She had stolen it for that very purpose, after all.

"PIN 77563. There we go! She said let there be internet, and there was!" Layla set the computer on the couch beside the rest of what she had hauled inside with her and kneeled down in front of it.

"Where is it? Where is it?" She unzipped the big black backpack nearby and began unloading its contents onto the little table behind her.

"Wire cutters, no. Water bottle, no. Knife, no. Gloves, no. Ah ha! Mycroft Holmes, there's your crabapple face." She set an ID beside the computer and began entering the long strings of digits printed on it.

"You beautifully powerful man, you. Your name is my magic key, and here we go." The empty glow of her screen flashed across her face and the rest of the sitting room as record after government record began opening up from her browser's window.

"Police reports, arrest records, witness accounts, photographic evidence. Gorgeous, perfectly gorgeous. I'll have to thank Mycroft next I see him." She kissed the ID card and slipped it back into her backpack.

"Now to find the pattern, let's start in the—what? What in blue blazes is that?" Layla stood from beside the sofa and crept slowly to the backdoor of the cottage. A distinctively unnatural noise was disturbing the quiet calm of the night.

"Are they back? I didn't see a garage out there?" Layla peered through the curtains in search of a garage door causing that sound but saw none. Instead, the back garden sported an absurdly out of place blue police box.

"Now, that is just plain weird." Curiosity tugged at Layla, and despite herself she unlocked the rear door to go investigate the whimsical lawn ornament.

"Who would want an old police cubby in their back yard?" She struggled with the final lock fixture, a chain over the door and internally celebrated her choice of picking the front door lock. When finally she undid the lock she opened the door to another human being.

"Oh!" She gasped and took a terrified step back glancing at the sofa and then back towards the man standing in the door frame.

"Sorry to startle you. May I come in?" He smiled easily and peeked into the darkness of the house. Layla figured he must not be the owner of the house since he was asking for entrance, so she really had no clue who this person must be, and yet with his quirky outfit and goofy smile she only hesitated briefly to allow him in.

"Please." She stepped back towards the sitting room and planted herself between the strange man and the couch.

"Hello, I'm the Doctor. This is not the place I'd meant to be but she brought me here for a reason. Good ole girl, always looking out for me, although she did sound a bit wonky. Maybe a bit of indigestion. So, who are you? And why are you dressed like a ninja? Always liked ninjas. Clever and quick and fantastic taste in clothing. Easy, versatile."

He hardly breathed as he stumbled around the room, picking up things and peering into corners. _He's like a hyperactive Sherlock surveying the room._ Layla watched in wonderment as the man continued speaking at several hundred miles an hour on a variety of subjects and smiling all the while.

"Often do your studies in the dark? Though it's not studies." He scooped up her computer and walked back towards the back door. Layla was too stunned to react properly.

"Oh, that's fun! Hacking into government databases, are we?" He grinned excitedly back at Layla and then began clicking through the open documents.

"Oh ho, Naughty girl! Gotta love the naughty ones. Just ask River. RIVER! I found you a kindred spirit!" He hollered out the still open back door and, placing her laptop on the coffee table, stooped over to wave a glowing, whirring stick at the screen.

"So what are we looking for, hmm? Or whom it seems? Oh, Sherlock, clever, mad, brilliant Sherlock always getting into trouble, popping about with his magnifying glass and that amazing hat!" He hopped back up and away from her computer, glancing at the glowy whirly stick thing before traipsing over to Layla.

"How is he and Dr. Watson, good chap, John Watson. Oh, nevermind, look at me and my poor manners, here I am talking my breath away and not asking your name." Layla was pretty sure this Doctor man sniffed her, but she ignored that and took his offered hand, shaking it firmly.

"Oh, well, you did ask… You're only just now getting around to letting me answer." Layla released his hand when his already animated face broke into a more enthusiastic smile.

"American! Are we in America…?" He waited for Layla to fill in his question with her name.

"Layla. I'm Layla. And no, I've immigrated you could say. How do you not know this is Surrey?" Layla followed him as he galloped back to the back door.

"Oh, long story, lot's of complicated and confusing bits." He ducked aside as a woman with incredibly impressive hair stepped through the open doorway, her eyes fixed on some sort of strange tablet device.

"Okay Sweetie, I've checked, this is the wrong town altogether—"

"Yes, River it's Surrey!"

The new woman looked up from her device and spotted Layla. "Oh hello. Who's this?"

"Layla, Dr. Layla McManis, love the cat suit by the way." She extended her hand to the new stranger, pushing aside the growing sense of bewilderment by trying to take control of her part in this interaction.

"I can see that, Dr. McManis." The woman looked over Layla's own black outfit and smiled impishly. "I'm Dr. River Song. What are you a doctor of?"

"Classics, you?"

"Archaeology."

"Nice."

The man looked back and forth between the grinning women and stepped between them. "Yes, yes. Glad you two have so much in common but back to the interesting stuff, why are you housebreaking to investigate Sherlock?" He turned back to Layla with curiosity.

"How'd you know I'm looking for Sherlock anyways? And who are you really?" Layla retreated back to her defensive posture in front of the sofa.

"I'm the Doctor, and I know Sherlock's handiwork, a person tracking these arrests would have Sherlock Holmes in mind. Wait, Layla McManis you said? I know of you…" He took a step closer to Layla and then turned back to Dr. Song. "What year is it River?"

"The year you're thinking of."

"Oh dear, yes." The Doctor flexed his hands manically and chewed on his lip with an apologetic look on his face.

"Oh dear what, The Doctor?" Layla frowned and crossed her arms.

"Just 'Doctor' if you please. And I can't tell you why but you're about to have one hell of a year." He spun back towards Dr. Song. "Which we, unfortunately, can have no part of. Come along, River." He loped out the door and towards the police box in the garden but Dr. Song stayed put.

"No, wait Doctor." She leaned out the door and shouted back at him. "I want to stay. I think we could stand to chat with Layla here for a bit. Besides, I have an old friend who knows Sherlock and, from what she tells me, he's quite the slice himself." Dr. Song winked at Layla and pulled the Doctor inside by the hand.

"She certainly thinks so, don't you Layla? Who else would be searching after him?" Dr. Song glanced cunningly at Layla and then shared a conspiratorial look with the Doctor.

"Yes, yes River but that's not really our business to know, now come on!" He tugged his sleeve free and made to shoo his companion out the door. She stayed rooted to the spot.

"So, Layla, you figured out that he's not really dead, how'd you do that?"

"No, River, no time. Let's go find your parents."

"Oh we have all the time in the world Doctor, you know that as well as I. She may also be able to help us figure out why the TARDIS brought us here. Now, go ahead, love." Dr. Song turned away from the fuming Doctor and focused all her attention on Layla.

"By accident, I saw him, alive, hours after his fall. I've been searching for him since." She thumbed towards the computer but revealed no more of the incredibly complicated history of the past six months.

"He made a big impression on you, I see." Dr. Song sauntered towards Layla and her invisible palisade in front of the couch.

"Yeah, clever men tend to do." Layla looked pointedly from Dr. Song to the Doctor now pouring through the contents of the kitchen cupboards.

"No denying that." River met the gaze and nodded with acknowledgement.

"You'd scour the world for him wouldn't you?" Layla looked back towards the Doctor._ She knows how I feel, look at her eccentric genius._

"In a heartbeat."

The Doctor stormed back into the sitting room holding a tomato and sniffing it in a clearly disgruntled manner. "No, this isn't right, River… Look at this tomato." He shoved the tomato under Layla's nose and then peered at it closely before licking it.

"Bleh, definitely wrong. It tastes… I knew it was more than indigestion. A bit of turbulence, I thought, but no—" He rambled at the tomato until a gasp from behind Layla drew his attention to the sofa.

"Doctor, I think we jumped the rift." She stood away from the couch.

"Okay, alternate reality and oh—" The Doctor stepped around River and looked down at the sofa while Layla scrambled to get around them.

"And a BABY!" The Doctor giggled delightedly as Layla scooped the infant out of his papoose and cradled him close to her chest. She had hoped that his silence would avoid the entire situation of having to protect him from the strangers. People hardly noticed him to begin with, since he scarcely made a peep.

"I didn't hear you over her. Hello baby—oh, alright, Sherlock, sorry." The Doctor stepped away from Layla and the child and held his hands up in surrender.

"Terribly sorry, didn't mean to offend. You're just ever so quiet." The infant was cooing adamantly in Layla's arms and she looked down at him with surprise.

"Uh… his name is Xander. Why did you call him Sherlock?" She held little Xander closer to her and away from the Doctor.

"He told me to. He doesn't like Xander, says it's trying too hard. He much prefers his father's name." The Doctor pulled an apologetic face at the baby and then his mother separately.

"What? Are you mad?"

"No, no, well a bit, but not about this, I speak baby." Layla opened and shut her mouth in bemusement. She looked to Dr. Song next for explanation but she only rolled her eyes.

"You—you _speak baby_?"

"That's right. No, no she's lovely, your mum; she'll figure it out eventually, you mustn't be too hard on her."

"You're telling me that the cooing noises Xander is making right now, which he never makes by the way—the child is basically mute most of the time— you're telling me you can understand those noises? Just what kind of Doctor are you anyway?"

"Good. Yes, that's right. He's incredible, your son." The Doctor nodded with a beaming smile at Layla and as he pointed goofily to little Xander. "Yes, okay, I see. She did, did she? Interesting, very interesting. Well no, illegal activities aren't permissible per se, but in certain circumstances..."

"I'm sorry, are you defending me to my own son?" She took another set of steps away from the whacko claiming to speak to her month old child and snarled down at him.

"Only a bit. He seems to be confused about how you could rationalize breaking and entering. It's for your own good, little Sherlock. She's trying to find your daddy." He whipped out his glowy stick thing again and scanned the mother and child with it.

"You didn't ever tell me just what sort of doctor you are?" Layla shielded the infant's ears from the whirring noise and glared at the instrument.

"Oh, I am learned in a number of fields." He gazed at the wand-like device for a few instants and then slipped it back inside his coat.

"And what's that thing?"

"This?" He brought the device back out. "It's my sonic screwdriver, handy in a pinch, or not. Really very useful all the time, especially now that I have an app for wood."

"Doctor…" Dr. Song's voice echoed warningly from the sofa again.

"Right, River, it's pretty clear we hopped universes. This little chap is a surprise, sorry Dr. McManis but your baby doesn't exist in our universe."

"Doctor!" River stood up and patted Layla's arm reassuringly.

"Don't worry about it, Dr. Song, I'm used to insensitivity." She hugged Xander closer to her breast and smiled softly at Dr. Song.

"Just call me River." River turned back to the Doctor. "Now, Layla deserves an explanation. Either you do it or I shall."

"Fine, fine. I didn't mean that little Sherlock—"

"Xander."

"—yes, Xander was not _supposed_ to exist, just that in the reality we come from he doesn't. And for that matter, you don't go around housebreaking. Oh I'm getting old, missing obvious things like that." He rubbed his face vigorously, his clearly not old face, and Layla stared at him in utter confusion.

"You have a lot to learn, Layla dear, and you will do soon. Doctor, I think we need her." River settled down again next to Layla and kept her arm around her shoulders.

"Quite right, River. She can help us determine which universe we are in. First question, are there zeppelins across London?"

"Zeppelins? Uh, no. I don't think I've ever seen a real zeppelin to be quite frank."

"So not Pete's world." The Doctor spun around on the spot and scampered to the window. "But the tomatoes taste off, like the time stream is different, so truly a separate universe, but not Pete's world. Curious."

"Pete's world? Tomatoes? Time streams?" Layla looked between the raving Doctor and River who was nodding along.

"Yes, there are parallel universes all lying on atop one another and divergent events, the ones that aren't fixed, can spin off whole separate realities. We need to determine what's different about this world and then proceed from there. No point in alarming you by listing other possible alternatives to your reality. Layla, we need to hear about your life." The Doctor paused his rant in front of Layla and waited while drumming his fingers against his chin.

"Uh… from the beginning?"

"Good question. Possibly. When did you move here?"

"Just over seven months ago."

"So that's the same, what happened from there, tell me about living at Baker St."

"Well… it's hard to explain, I became close with John and then after this cult thing—"

"No, no, that's the same. Hmmm." He tapped his forehead agitatedly. "Tell me big events, like travels, did you go travelling?"

"Well, I was supposed to go on this dig in Greece but I had reinjured a broken collarbone several weeks before while trying to escape one of our adventures."

"So you didn't go to Greece! That's the difference River!"

"Was I meant to be in Greece?"

"'Meant' is a messy term filled with implications of right or wrong, predestination and whatnot when sometimes, decisions just affect different realities differently. What else? What about Sherlock?"

"Well," Layla shut her eyes and thought back to those months ago, when her trip back to the doctor had revealed that she was pregnant and the hours of yelling that had followed.

"A great deal of stuff happened. I found out about little Xander here, how Sherlock had arranged that and then we fought and he convinced me of the merit behind it. Then some time later the triple heist of Moriarty happened and then the trial. I had to hide when he came round after he was acquitted." Layla laid a now snoozing Xander down in his papoose again and sat beside him.

"Then all of a sudden a few months later Sherlock was being arrested and then on the lamb. That was a rough night for me, all pregnant and panicky. The next day, John called me all in a fluster about Mrs. Hudson being shot, she wasn't of course, she was with a work man in the front entryway. That was when I left— well tried to leave to meet John at Bart's."

"Dr. Watson returned to the hospital?" River stood from the sofa and looked down at the Doctor but he waved her back and turned to Layla for her to continue.

"Yeah, it took me a good half hour to meet him because of the morning sickness and other stuff. Anyway, by the time I actually got there, there was a crowd around a blood splatter on the ground and the nurses inside told me Sherlock had jumped from the roof. I was pretty distraught, and so was John but he pulled me aside and told me that Moriarty was real." Layla paused when the Doctor spoke the last three words along with her.

"How'd you do that?" She gawked at the funny man in the bow tie.

"I did a thing. No matter, go on." He flailed his hands about in a way that probably meant for Layla to continue

"Well okay, this is where my knowledge of what happened gets a bit fuzzy. John was almost comatose for days and then he refused to talk about exactly what happened. All he would say that he saw Sherlock jump and Moriarty take off—"

"MORIARTY IS ALIVE?" Both River and the Doctor jolted forward in shock.

"Yeah, he escaped and the worst part is that everyone believes that he's just a kid's show star called Richard Brook."

"Moriarty is alive, now, in London?" River looked perfectly flabbergasted.

"That's right, anyway, when we finally left St. Bart's several hours later—the police wanted John's testimony about the jump and we were both in shock for a while—anyhow, we walked out to see a man we absolutely thought was Sherlock, alive and not on a metal table in Molly's lab, sneaking down the alley. John tried to follow him but couldn't keep up. So we went back to Baker St. and kept our mouths shut, about Moriarty, about Sherlock, but kept our eyes open for hints of either of them at work covertly. John had told me about one of the boys' former cases, involving a certain Irene Adler, who had faked her own death and impressed Sherlock pretty significantly –"

"That's very Irene." River mumbled with amusement and then nodded for Layla to finish her story.

"—so we assumed that he had come up with some clever rouse and was biding his time." Layla paused again as the Doctor leaned closer towards her and stared at her.

"So, then you waited 'til you had your baby, Sherlock's baby, then took off to find him!" The Doctor's ability to take the words literally out of her mouth only gave Layla pause for a few seconds this time.

"Yep, here I am, I've been house hopping for about two weeks now and I think I'm getting closer. There's a string of prominent arrests aided by uncharacteristic stupidity from these professional criminals that has Sherlock written all over it." Layla tapped the back side of her computer screen the Doctor had started typing into furiously.

"Yes, very good Layla, thanking you. River, I think we know now why the TARDIS brought us here. Our old friend Sherlock is going to need some help." He clapped his hands together and then leapt up from his seat, upending laptop and a number of trinkets on the table in front of him. Luckily for Layla, River caught the computer and folded it closed.

"Sorry, Layla, he's a walking accident."

"It's fine." Layla strapped on her papoose and set to work packing her things back up. "That thing's nearly indestructible, but thanks for catching it."

"Alright, River! Layla! Sherlo—er, Xander! To the TARDIS!" The Doctor galloped out the back door leaving Layla to stare cluelessly at River.

"The TARDIS?" She tried the strange word out cautiously.

"Yep, the TARDIS."

"What's a TARDIS?"

"That's our ride and your ticket to Sherlock." River followed Layla out of the house and closed the back door with a sly smile on her face. "You'll love the décor."

**A/N: TaDa! Layla meets the Doctor! Let me know what you think, feel free to suggest adventures or help with the Doctor's character. He's particularly challenging for me to write, so manic! Anyway, I thought it was appropriate to publish this the day Wholock happened in reality on that BAFTA stage.**

**Cheers!**


	2. Leadworth

IN WHICH THERE ARE TWO LONG COATS AND NO PONDS

Layla followed River and the Doctor out of the cottage and glanced around for their vehicle.

"So, I never did ask, but what are you doing bumbling around in a stranger's backyard?" She stuttered to a stop in front of the Doctor and looked between him and River. Both were grinning away, leaning against the absurd blue box set in the back corner of the garden. The Doctor patted the box fondly and then turned towards it with a key.

"We're looking for someone as well, Layla, but it's a long story…" He glanced over his shoulder as the key clicked in the lock. "Are you ready little Xander?" Sheer, unadulterated joy lit up his face.

"Do I even want to ask?" Layla looked away from the Doctor and his manic excitement towards River and her tangible calm. River shook her head with a smile.

"It has to be seen."

"A blue cop cubby? I don't understand. I thought we were going to your vehicle, your TADIS or whatever. How can that," She pointed to the box, "be my ticket to Sherlock?" The Doctor slipped inside and River behind him, letting the door fall lightly to the jamb, not quite shut. Layla hesitated, peering around the side of the box and judging the size on the interior. She wasn't looking forward to cramming inside of it with the crazy man and all of River's hair.

"Okay, let's not stay in here for that long—" Layla's voice failed her as she stepped in the box.

"Whaddya think?" The Doctor twirled around the center column of machinery and gadgets and trotted down the steps.

"It's—it's—it's—" She lost her balance and stumbled into the Doctor.

"Steady on!" He helped Layla stand upright again and spun on the spot with arms outstretched. "The TARDIS! Time and relative dimension in space! Yes, I think so too, Xander. She's dazzling." He stooped over and ruffled Xander's dark curls. "I call her sexy," he whispered to the baby.

"This isn't possible. This is absolutely impossible. How can all this be in here?" Layla stutter stepped back towards the TARDIS door and groped for the door handle.

"I told you it had to be seen." River winked with a dazzling smile and led Layla further into the incredible room.

"But—but how? I can't— even if this is physically real, it's impossible. Literally, by the laws of physics." She let River guide her forward and lifted the now struggling Xander out of his papoose to turn him around. She set the baby facing outwards and he quieted down.

"Xander's right, Layla! She doesn't follow Earth's rules." The Doctor gave the infant a thumbs up and then scampered back up the stairs towards the center column.

"It's a separate dimension crammed within an outer shell." River supported Layla as she gazed around the TARDIS control room.

"I ask again, who are you people?" She wandered away from River and ran her hand over the TARDIS's walls. They were real, or at least she could feel them.

"I'm the Doctor and this is Riv—"

"No." Layla turned away from the architecture of the room and frowned at the Doctor. "I mean _who_ are you? You can't just be a doctor and an archaeologist travelling around looking for someone. This is beyond anything I've ever seen and I've seen some whacko things with Sherlock." Layla laid a soothing hand on Xander's head as the baby began whining loudly.

"You're right Layla. Very good. Who do you think we are?" The Doctor leaned over the rails and held Layla's eyes, stiller than she'd seen him yet.

"I don't know, government agents?" She mounted the stairs and ran her hands over the console. It felt real as well. "Although, this is extremely advanced. I've seen some of the experimental technology the government's been toying with since Sherlock disappeared. Supersonic flight and teleport trials are all over those databases I hacked, but this, this is way beyond that and, if Mycroft could, he'd have something like this actively at his disposal. So, not government."

Layla watched the Doctor's face closely, his smile widened and eyes wrinkled. He was smiling, genuinely. River, River on the other hand, River she couldn't read. "Not the British government at least. My gut and your," she pointed to the Doctor, "face tell me that you aren't with some crime syndicate like Moriarty's. But hers," River's brow raised and her grin stayed in place, "tells me something different."

"Oh, her?" The Doctor spun around and patted River on the shoulders. "Don't worry about her, she's a psychopath. That smile always lies. But don't give up now, you're on the right track."

"Okay, a psychopath. A psychopath archaeologist and a doctor. In a blithering fancy space ship, because this isn't just a vehicle. This is—what was it? Travelling awesome dimension in space, or something, right? A space ship conducted by people who know all alternative realities not connected with the government and not weapons tech for big brother or organized crime. My guess, private space enterprise. Maybe consulting scientists. You said you knew of Sherlock, so that would make sense." Layla set her fists on her hips and stared them down.

"Well, no, but close. More like freelancers. We travel." He pointed between himself and River. "Although, I like consulting—not scientists, but consulting something. What do you think River?"

"Consulting five-year old, more like."

"Haha! No point in being an adult if you can't still act like a kid. Right Xander?" The Doctor leapt away from the railing of the upper deck and ran around the platform, twiddling and twisting pieces on the console. "Look at your mum, though, I'd be pleased too. She's brilliant. Great deductions you just made, been knocking about with Sherlock more than you let on." He pointed and grinned at Layla's surprised face.

"Well, I helped him out on a couple of cases but—"

"Nope! That's not right either, is it? You've been trained in reading faces. You could see the lack of true emotion on River's face. She's been conditioned and you saw it instantly. So something else is different about this world." He pulled an old fashioned monitor around and examined the screen.

"Yeah, I learnt once I realized that anyone could be working for Moriarty. I had some defense council training straight out of college because they wanted me at the DOD in linguistics, but Mycroft's databases were more useful. I learnt more from the Ministry's online files in a day than I did in three months of classes back home."

"If you could see deception in our faces inside, why did you come with us?" River edged closer to Layla and peered curiously at her.

"I didn't really—well, a little bit." Layla struggled with Xander for a few more seconds as he became more agitated. "You caught me off guard, alone and housebreaking, so my judgment was compensated some. Also, you mentioned Sherlock. It was like you knew all about him. I _wanted_ to trust you." Layla glanced down at her feet and stopped trying to quiet the baby.

"Oh, Layla." The Doctor's voice quieted and he also tiptoed closer. "You've been hurt, I'm sorry." He bent over to catch her eyes. "And this won't help much, but know this, I lie, all the time, but it's for the best. You can trust us, River and me." His eyes were clear and his face soft. Layla could read them like a book.

"That I do believe." Layla met his eye and then glanced over at Dr. Song, she looked genuine as well.

"Good!" The Doctor's manic energy returned and he scampered back to the console. "Because I like you, and we'll need your help here!"

"Hey," River leaned in again towards Layla, "sorry about lying, our situation creates some… difficulties."

Layla glanced at River's face and then refocused on her fussy child, "You lie with your mouth but not with your eyes, Dr. Song. I'm used to that." She tried to unbuckle the papoose but just ended up tightening it around herself. "You're not really a psychopath either, or at least not anymore. That's what your face tells me."

"Thanks, Layla." River smiled, with her eyes too this time. "You want some help with that?" She reached over and helped Layla unstrap the papoose from her chest, gathering Xander into her arms. The baby babbled loudly and squirmed in River's arms.

"Oh no! He prefers you, Layla!" The Doctor popped up from behind the machinery. "Too much hair!"

River scoffed and turned to glare at the Doctor but kept hold of Xander while Layla collapsed onto the nearest seat.

"No, but he needs a feed. Could you hold him for a sec?" Layla spoke quietly to River and then raised her voice to question the Doctor. "So, I'm going to guess this thing does more than fly. What else, teleport?" She unzipped her back pack again and pulled out a blanket.

"In a way, yes, it travels in space. Xander is keen for you to know that he's hungry." The Doctor wandered over again with a little trinket, a stuffed toy that looked to Layla like a Space-Mr. Potatohead.

"Yeah, I figured. It's time." Layla threw the blanket over her shoulder and reached out for Xander. "So, this is a space ship and you're a mind reader, that's how you knew all about me." She met the Doctor's eye and then positioned the baby in the crook of her arm.

"Yes, well no, I have a way—oh my!" The Doctor slapped a hand over his eyes as Layla draped the blanket over her chest and Xander began nursing.

"He has some unusual abilities, yes, but there's more." River chuckled at his discomfort and pushed the Doctor back to the control panel.

"Huh. Well, however cooky you are, I must say, I love your coat." Layla inclined her chin towards the long, olive coat the Doctor had tossed over the railing.

"Thanks! I have another, more tweed-y and less flow-y but this one's good as well." He pulled a couple of levers and twiddled with a few buttons, spinning around the consol in some sort of erratic dance.

"You might want to hold on now." River left Layla's side and began following the Doctor around, adjusting his fiddling.

"Okay. So what else? River you said that there was more— oof!"

"And we're off!" The Doctor flipped a final switch and the entire interior went bonkers.

Layla shrieked and held Xander closer in an attempt to keep from rocketing off the platform, not to mention her seat.

"WHAT—IS— HAPPENING!" She clung on to the chair for dear life and looked at the Doctor and River, both easily swaying with the rocking and rumbling of the TARDIS.

"We're traveling! I thought you were clever!" The Doctor spun back to her as the TARDIS evened out, fell stiller. Layla noticed River inching around the console pulling and pushing and flipping.

"Hey! I am, this is a super advanced space ship thing. I thought the ride would at least be smooth." Layla righted herself on the seat and glared at the Doctor. "We're going to find Sherlock now?"

"Oh yes, very soon. But first, we have to check on River's parents."

"Is that who you were going to visit? You know, before you happened upon me."

The Doctor pulled around the overhead television screen and looked into it briefly. "Yes! And we've found them this time, Leadworth and the Ponds!"

The TARDIS settled with a booming echo and the Doctor bounded towards the door. "Come along doctors in cat suits! And Xander!" He disappeared out the door, appendages flailing.

"Well," River handed Layla the papoose again, "ready to meet my parents?"

"I suppose, anything else crazy I should expect? I mean, what else does this thing do?" Layla followed River out of the door. "Wow, it really did move. So literal space ship, check."

"Well, there is some other stuff—"

"Welcome to Leadworth! Home of the Ponds." The Doctor leapt in between the two women and cut off River's response. "The house is here, car is here, looks like everything is basically normal." He led them up to a blue door with a red sports car parked in front of it. "Let's see if your parents are."

A couple of knocks and a minute or so later the door opened to reveal a thinner man in a set of scrubs.

"Rory the Roman! Where's Amy?" The Doctor pulled the man at the door into a gawky hug and thumped him on the shoulder.

"Just here. Amy! It's the Doctor!" Rory shouted back into the house and opened the door wider.

"How long Rory?" The Doctor stepped inside and began picking up practically every object within reach.

"Just about a year Doctor, since last Christmas dinner." Rory looked back and forth from the Doctor and River following inside to Layla tarrying on the porch.

"Lovely. Rory, meet Layla. Clever, American and friend o— Amelia!" A red headed woman emerged from the back of the house and was immediately caught in another of the Doctor's awkward hugs.

"Hi, Doctor. Surprise, this." He released her and scampered back to the door to drag Layla inside.

"Like I was saying, Amy, Rory, this is Layla, friend of Sherlock Holmes, and her son Xander. Xander say hello!" He playfully tapped the baby's full cheeks and then threw his arms around Amy and Rory.

"Um. Pleased to meet you." Layla felt very uncomfortable in these strangers' home and incredibly confused. "River," she whispered, "how are they not older than you?"

"Oh! I forgot to mention it travels in time, too!" The Doctor herded Layla further into the home, into a sitting room, behind the impossible family.

"So… time travel is the 'other stuff.'" As she struggled to grasp the concept of a time machine and River having parents that were younger than her, younger than even Layla herself, it seemed, she was shooed towards a couch and encouraged to sit.

"Oi! No offense against you, er, Layla, but Doctor! You replaced me?" Amy punched the Doctor on the arm and sat down next to him.

"No, Amelia. Don't get jealous. Layla here is only along for the ride. I don't think I could get her to stay if I tried, besides. She can see my lies." He looked sad, terribly sad as Amy looked around him at Layla.

Rory approached Layla quietly and offered her a glass of water. "Sorry for your loss." He smiled sympathetically as Layla looked away from the Doctor and thanked him for the drink.

"No, no Rory, he's not dead. Not really anyway! Faked his death to save his friends, and that's who we're looking for, well half of who."

"Sounds familiar." The Doctor didn't seem to hear Rory mumble, but Layla sure did. She catalogued that fact for later and directed her attention back to the Doctor.

"Little lad like Xander needs a daddy! Speaking of, is that a cot I see?" The Doctor hauled himself from the sofa and hopped towards a crib in the corner.

"Yeah, Doctor, but please, she's sleeping." Amy stopped quietly chatting with River to join the Doctor beside the cot.

"A baby girl… Again?" The Doctor turned with wide eyes towards River who returned his worried gaze.

"Yeah, her name is Lorna, after that poor girl who helped us on Demon's Run." Amy reached down to straighten the baby's nightie.

As River and the Doctor both visibly relaxed, Layla looked around for Rory. He clearly knew some things about her escorts and she wanted to see what she could get out of him. He seemed to have a similar idea.

"So, he's not dead? We saw the headlines here." She turned to Rory's quiet voice, now beside her, and nodded with a smile.

"Yeah, he faked it, I don't know how."

"And the other stuff as well, the things about him being a fraud, that's also fake?"

"Sure is, although now that you mention it," She raised her voice to attract everyone's attention, "sorry to interrupt but I really must ask everyone to keep the whole Sherlock is alive thing quiet, it's meant to be a _secret_." She frowned at the Doctor and then turned pleading eyes on the couple.

"No, they're good at secrets, Layla. Now Lorna, that'll be lovely. Lorna Pond." The Doctor looked back down at the infant, clearly relieved.

"No. No. That's not right." Rory piped up next to Layla. "Lorna Williams."

"Williams?" The Doctor turned to Amy with a question on his face.

"Yep. Williamses all around. Changed it since you left." She patted the Doctor's arm and then sat down again. "So, you staying for dinner, or—"

"Nope, just checking in, my first _real_ social call. We've got a detective to find." He pushed away from the sleeping baby and her cot and inched towards the door.

"But, Doctor—" River set down her glass and frowned. The Doctor ignored her and casually pointed his whirring screwdriver around the place as he back away from the sitting room.

"Nope, sorry, but we have got to get Layla on her way. Williamses, lovely to see you, we'll pop by again soon. Come on, River, Layla, let's go."

"Uh, actually Doctor," Layla struggled to find some excuse for staying. She wanted to talk to this couple, find out more about these crazy time travelers without translating lies and sifting through distractions "—um, I don't mean to invite myself in but Xander could really use a quick nap and that box out there, it's not good for that sort of thing." The Doctor gazed at her with narrowed eyes, he didn't believe her, but then his expression lightened and he plopped back down on the couch.

"What do you think, Amelia? Some fish fingers?"

"Yeah, Doctor, I'm trying out a new wok tonight—"

"Oh, I love Chinese! Come on River, let's go make some noodles." The Doctor bolted towards the back and dragged River with him. Amy lingered for a few moments looking from Layla to Rory.

"Uh, if you need anything, for your baby or something, just let Rory know. He'll help. And er, thanks for getting the Doctor to stay." She patted Layla awkwardly on the arm and then scampered off after the other two.

"We know how you feel, Amy especially." Rory's voice was still quiet, still sympathetic. "The Doctor has done the exact thing to us, last year. Faked his death and then took off. The only reason we knew was because River let his secret slip."

"So they really do lie constantly?"

Rory nodded. "They say they're avoiding spoilers, making sure the time streams don't get messed up. I'd be careful though. No matter what, someone always gets hurt with the Doctor."

Layla took a deep breath, that wasn't news she wanted to hear. "Can you tell me anything else? Like who they are and why they've got this wacky machine?"

"He's an alien. She's his wife. It's complicated." Rory's voice was dry like it was a joke, but it was pretty clear he was telling the truth.

"Okay, aliens. Great." Layla peered around to check on the other three in the kitchen.. "Not that astonishing, the man is fairly unhinged." She saw the Doctor flailing around arms and legs akimbo and noodles flying about. At least he seemed harmless, for an alien. "Weirdly enough, I trust him. He said he could help me. I just want to find Sherlock, can they do that for me?"

Rory frowned gently and then stood from his seat. "If the Doctor said he can do it, I'm sure he can. I'd be careful, though. Things don't always go to plan with him."

Just then the Doctor came bursting in with River and Amy on his heels. "Sorry, Layla! Nap's off, I've set fire to the noodles. Out, out, everybody out! The Williamses will have to pop _out_ for dinner and we'll have to get _out_ of their way. Come on!"

Sure enough, a trail of smoke followed the three into the sitting room. Layla leapt to her feet and fell in line behind the Doctor and River while Rory stomped over to the baby crib with a sigh. "Let's go, Lorna. As usual the Doctor's visit ends in an evacuation."

"Sorry." Layla muttered under her breath to Rory as everyone tumbled from the house.

"It's all fine. Lovely to meet you, and good luck."

"Coming Layla?" The Doctor swung open the door and then galloped back into the TARDIS.

As the door snapped shut behind her, Layla caught River whispering urgently to the Doctor. He was taking no such precaution to keep his voice down.

"Oh, River, River, you know, we came to see them in this reality to judge just how much is different. Layla needed to chat with them to really trust us. She got we she wanted, assurance, and we found out what we wanted. Nothing too strange here, just more babies than usual. I'm going to call this one the universe of the babies that never were. Or the baby universe. Or perhaps, the world of infant infestation." He picked up the funny toy he had given to Xander before the first trip of the TARDIS and skipped over to Layla with it.

The baby clamped on with his usual tenacity and shook the weird spaceman at Layla's face. "So—" she leaned her face away from the toy, forgetting what she was originally going to ask, asking instead in frustration, "—what is this thing, this funny, space spud man?"

"No. It's a Sontaran." He stated matter-of-factly and began the routine of starting up the TARDIS. When it shook to life, Layla was ready this time.

"Oh, of course, I should have known. Is Sherlock the next stop, now that we all know what we all want to know?"

"That's right. Find Sherlock. Find Moriarty. Get this place sorted and then off to see your parents, the real ones, River." The Doctor tapped River on the nose. "To the proper Ponds." He ran around to the swinging screen. "But for now, it looks like the ole girl is pointing us to Glasgow."

"Girl?"

"The TARDIS is female." River chimed in.

"Yes and now she's going to be invisible and silent, just so we don't alarm our dear Sherlock." He hit some other switches and levers and the sound of the machine, or ship, or apparently living entity died down.

"Oh, got it right this time." River smiled snarkily and leaned against the console.

"Oh hush, River. Okay, Layla. We're here. Ready to meet your daddy, Xander?" The Doctor skipped down to the door and opened it slowly.

"Coming?" River looked back at Layla from the entrance after the Doctor slipped silently out.

"Yeah, just—just give me a couple of moments. I need to collect myself, it's been a while and, you know, emotions." She waved River on and lingered inside.

"Alright, a bedroom. Good, good. What's out here?" Layla could hear the Doctor outside the TARDIS and turned towards the display he had been inspecting moments before. Sure enough, she could see a good portion of the scene going on outside. The silhouette of the Doctor receded into the light of a door way and River's followed soon after, stepping out of view almost immediately.

"And another room, a table, naturally oh, and a coat! Look at that, yes, definitely Sherlock's." The Doctor stood facing the TARDIS and River and was busy waving his sonic screwdriver at the long black coat now in his hands.

"Doctor." River stepped back into the TARDIS's view screen and began raising her hands.

"Yes, River, what?" The Doctor didn't look away from his screwdriver but stepped forward with the coat in his hand. "He's been here, very recently, feel the coat it's still—" He glanced up at River "—what's wrong?"

Layla couldn't see what was going on behind the Doctor so she sprinted to the front door and slowly opened it just a crack.

"Oh hello! Just who we were looking for." Layla peeked through the door in time to see the Doctor hold his hands up and step away from the gun now in his face. Layla stifled a gasp as she saw Sherlock on the other end of the weapon.

"Oh a gun! Not really what I expected. Maybe I should've though. Like you, River! Smart people with guns. Is it to do with the—"

"Who are you and how did you get in here?" Sherlock's voice was hard and cold, just like his eyes. It sent shivers down Layla's spine.


	3. Glasgow

IN WHICH THERE ARE TWO GENIUSES IN THE ROOM AND TEMPERS ARE LOST

"Um, now would be a good time to come out Layla!"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed for a tiny instant but then the icy mask returned. "You have precisely thirty seconds to answer my questions. Who are you and how did you find me here?"

Layla cringed as Sherlock spit out the last few words. He had noticed the Doctor's use of her name to bait him. It hadn't worked.

"Oh! Didn't like me using her name, now you think I'm threatening you! I'm not! She's really here. Cross my hearts!"

"Doctor…" River earned an icy glare from Sherlock and swallowed the rest of her chiding.

"Like she said, I'm the Doctor, she's River and you already know Layla. Layla, come out, now please!"

"You now have eighteen seconds. I would recommend not delaying any further."

"Alright! Um, I found you with my, er, vehicle. Very complicated, very clever and surprisingly alive—"

"Do not try to distract me with blather. I _am_ holding a gun to your face, I would advise being direct." He cocked the gun with a snarl.

The emotions Sherlock was showing terrified Layla but she didn't want her cowardice to endanger anyone, and they were certainly in danger with him in this condition. He felt exposed and threatened, not a good state for someone unused to falling prey to emotions or to being surprised _and_ who was holding a gun. Layla swallowed her fear and threw open the door.

"Yeah, um…" She edged out of the bedroom and leaned around the Doctor to wave meekly at Sherlock, "yeah, I'm really here, Sherlock."

He blinked rapidly a few times, never drawing his eyes from the Doctor, then with a tightening of his jaw coldly responded to her. "You shouldn't be here, Layla."

A reprimand. Sherlock chose to respond to the woman he impregnated and then had not seen for several months with a reprimand. This stoked Layla's usual prickly defensiveness. "_I_ shouldn't be here?! What about you, Sherlock, you selfish, lying bastard? Who are you to judge me for being here? Where should you be?"

A moment of heavy silence hung between Sherlock and Layla as his now redirected gaze pierced her with its icy severity. The Doctor shifted antsily between them, edging closer to River and muttering well above whispering volume.

"Oh, my. That was unexpected." His voice effectively sliced through the tension of the room and earned a reproving glance from River and a matching glare from Sherlock and Layla.

"You," Layla pointed aggressively at the Doctor, "shush, Captain Clever!"

Returned to his general lightheartedness, the Doctor leaned over to River and muttered in her ear, "I think she would have liked Donna—"

"Doctor," River whispered just above her breath, "play to your audience…" She looked pointedly between the emotionally charged glares of Layla and Sherlock and then back at the Doctor. He just shrugged.

With her audience just observing again, Layla reverted back to her heated diatribe against Sherlock. "How could you, Sherlock? How could you just abandon us all, and with Moriarty alive and loose!"

Sherlock shook his head minutely and fluttered his eyelids in his normally dismissive way. "You wouldn't understand—"

"Do _not_ patronize me, Sherlock Holmes." His eye widened at her increasing volume. "You know I can understand if you just take the time to explain, but you don't, because you like this, being the only one who comprehends the intricate workings of _your_ universe—"

Taking the smallest step forward, Sherlock looked down at Layla with pursed lips. "Layla, you must—"

"Do not interrupt me either!" Layla's shout sent Sherlock retreating back to his former position. "Do I sound like I'm finished? Believe it or not, other people's opinions matter as well. _I_ think you found an easy way out that made you the hero and you chose it without considering how that choice would affect others."

Layla was just falling into a rhythm when the Doctor cleared his throat and shuffled between them, stepping in, ostensibly as a mediator. "Perhaps you should allow him to explain, Layla."

Sherlock neither needed nor appreciated the Doctor's defense and thus rewarded his attempt with a searing stare. Layla followed suit, further irritated by being interrupted again. River, once more appropriately appraising the situation, grabbed the Doctor by his coat and tugged him back out of the way.

"Perhaps _you_ should listen as well, Doctor." A meaningful look passed between he and River and the Doctor wilted back to the sidelines to be just an observer.

"Thank you, River. From what _I_ hear, he could stand to hear this." Layla knew her conversation with Rory would come in handy, this was a perfect proof. The nosey Doctor was successfully silenced.

"I am going to assume that you know these people and, for whatever irrational reason, trust them." Sherlock's scathing and condescending comment drew Layla's attention back to him. He lowered his gun and folded his hands behind his back, into his ranting pose. "Disregarding the fact that they're clearly not trustworthy, you made a characteristically impulsive decision, Layla, and provided a perfect example of why I chose not to tell you of my plans, because you would undoubtedly follow your emotional response and ruin my months of preparation with rash sentimentality. Besides, I knew how this decision would affect you all, and I calculated that the negative repercussions were worth the benefits. You and John and the others are emotionally impacted but will recover nonetheless, because despite _feeling_ abandoned and vulnerable you are, in fact, safer without me."

Layla could see, in the corner of her eye, the Doctor nodding along with Sherlock until River elbowed him. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and focused again on Sherlock's soliloquy. "Quite the contrary to your inflamed judgment's conclusion, I did not leave you helpless with Moriarty on the loose. I am currently in the process of dismantling his entire crime syndicate. If I continue unimpeded by you and your meddling, I shall soon rid this world of his webs and Moriarty himself, leaving you and John all the better off without me. You see? I was correct." Sherlock sniffed and looked down his nose at Layla.

She, on the other hand, was in no way capable of his cool, objective composure. The affronted anger boiling inside of her nearly robbed Layla of sentence construction. "Better. Off. Without. You. Better off without you?"

"Obviously."

"All of us." Layla was shaking her head with embittered amusement at Sherlock's obliviousness.

"Indeed. All of you."

"You idiot." Layla slapped him hard, as hard as she could, in the face and then stomped back into the bedroom, leaving Sherlock bewildered for a second, uncomfortable time that evening.

"What are you talking about?" He snapped after her.

"Oh, River, he doesn't know about the—"

"Would you shut it? I swear you have _lost_ finesse in your old age!" River grinned at the Doctor despite the delicate situation.

"You two really are similar…"

"Hush." Her amusement waned as Sherlock's glare crept back towards them.

"But that slap—"

"You'll earn a matching one if you don't be quiet."

"Would you both just shut up!" Sherlock's cool shattered as he snapped at the two strangers. "I don't know who you are or how you are so well informed, but the appeal of that mystery is being quickly deminished by your inane babble. So preserve the allure and—" Sherlock's grimace suddenly melted as Layla returned from the inner room.

"Xander Holmes, meet your father. Sherlock, this is your son."

For a few seconds, shock registered, pure and unadulterated, on Sherlock's face. "But—but Molly said you stopped—"

"Yeah, well, Molly doesn't know everything." Layla shrugged and shifted the now babbling infant to her other arm.

"Molly said you had stopped attending your pre-natal exams." Sherlock's eyes crinkled at he stared at the child.

"Like I said, she doesn't know everything." Layla was very pleased to see the emotion on Sherlock's face, no matter how slightly it registered.

"Don't worry, Xander, your daddy really is happy to meet you, he's just surprised." The Doctor kicked off the wall to crouch down to Xander's eye level.

"Shh." River, again, tugged the Doctor back out of the way.

Sherlock seemed perfectly oblivious to the peanut gallery's comments. "Why? Why would you—"

"Stop visiting the hospital you ostensibly committed suicide at? Gee. I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with my rash emotions. For the love of God, Sherlock, I didn't want to expose myself to Moriarty and I didn't want to walk past your blood spatter!" Layla squeezed her eyes tight shut to prevent the tears that were budding there against her will.

"Yes, it seems she is." The Doctor continued his conversation with Xander, River's best efforts completely quashed. "Now, now, I think you should reserve judgment on that, Xander. Sometimes, emotions are beautiful."

"Doctor, honestly, _your audience_."

"I didn't realize—" Sherlock muttered over the nearby running commentary, "—I assumed you lost it, I…"

"See? Your dad is pleased to meet you. And emotions _are _good, even your dad has them. Yes, that's happiness—"

"Doctor…"

"—Happiness can look sad, very humany wumany."

"I stopped watching because I thought you would be better off—" Sherlock sucked in an enormous breath, trying to ignore the Doctor, but nonetheless lost his patience. "—who? Who are these people and why does this buffoon insist upon providing an insane running commentary, purportedly, a dialogue with _my_ son?" He wheeled around, gun in hand, and stood between Layla with Xander and the Doctor and River. "I've spent my patience, tell me who you are and how you came to be in this room. Do you work for Moriarty? Did you come in through the bedroom window?"

"The _bathroom_ window—oh, not a Beatles fan! Sorry, sorry. River's right, my timing's very poor, not a moment for humor…" The gun cocks again and the Doctor holds his hands a little higher in the air. "Erm, okay, I'm the Doctor, this is River, we're travelers, I already told you that… we, uh, picked up Layla on the way, similar goal—um. Yes, um, we can _help_ you find Moriarty, we don't affiliate with criminals, well usually, River's the exception, remediated psychopaths make the best companions and the hair is so—uh, yes, back on track. My, you like that gun… Where was I?"

River filled in the momentary lapse in mile per minute speech. "The how, Doctor, the how."

"The how… YES! How we came to be here! Well, it's complicated—"

"Try me." Sherlock's voice rang out in that deadly smooth tone that always threatened his temper. Layla squirmed behind him, actually growing concerned for his new acquaintances well being. Once again, they found Sherlock on the fly, a touch out of his element.

"We came in my TARDIS, a vehicle that travels…"

Sherlock stared unmoving at the Doctor's lame attempt to explain the TARDIS and not sound patronizing or absurd. His unfaltering cheeriness didn't gain him any points in Sherlock's book.

"… and we landed in your bedroom."

"This man's insane." Sherlock remarked dryly and glanced over his shoulder at Layla, gearing up to reprimand her again for poor choices.

"Well, yes, a touch," the Doctor didn't give him the chance, "but it makes me no less correct, and if you just give us a moment, I'll show you."

Sherlock turned back around, boredom practically leaking out of his ears. "Show me what? There is nothing in that room."

"Yes, well, nothing that you can see…"

The boredom morphed into indignation. "Do not mock me, sir. You will not enjoy the result."

"Sherlock," Layla took a cautious step towards him and reached out an arm, "just give him a chance to explain and show you."

"Fine." Sherlock consented but stepped away from her attempted touch.

"Excellent! River, make her blue again." The Doctor jumped away from the wall and shooed River towards the room and then spun on the spot to collect Sherlock's coat and hand it to him.

"Sorry, what?"

"River is going to turn her blue again." The Doctor extended the coat to Sherlock with a grin.

Sherlock accepted it but took a step back and narrowed his eyes. "Layla, this man speaks nonsensically—"

"Just turn around, Sherlock."

"As though my assessment of the room will find something I missed before—" Sherlock fell silent in confusion, sheer shock. A rare silence indeed, now twice heard that day.


	4. The Time Vortex

IN WHICH THE DOCTOR QUOTES SHERLOCK AND THE DETECTIVE IS STUMPED

Sherlock stood dumbfounded as he gazed at the absurd blue police box parked squarely in the center of his previously empty bedroom.

"See?" Layla stepped over to him and snatched the gun from his limp hand. "I told you to just wait and see. Now, I know this is way unexpected, but there is more, and this time, just wait before you make your conclusions." She dismantled the gun and tossed it into the blue box, the door tapping gently against the jamb as she walked away.

"How did you get this in here?" He was rooted to the spot, virtually unmoving as his keen, blue eyes scanned the entirety of the apparition.

"Mr. Holmes," the Doctor scooted over and stood beside Sherlock, leaning towards him with a grin, "Sherlock, may I call you Sherlock?..." he continued chattering at Sherlock as Layla bustled around the living space and collected what few items she knew to be his.

Eventually, the assortment of things and the baby was too much for Layla to handle at once, so she stomped back to the two men and pressed Xander against Sherlock's chest. "Here, hold him, please, while I pack you up."

The Doctor paused long enough in his unending stream of breathless babble to tap the baby's nose and ruffle his dark curls. "Aw, that's heart-warming, little Xander is completely taken with you, Sherlock."

Sherlock silently cradled the infant in his arms but never took his eyes off the police box, not even when the baby nestled against his chest and began cooing.

"…and this is the way we ended up here, she materializes, travelling across all of time and space, her own little dimension, all wrapped up in this lovely box. I say she, because she is female, and sentient, has a mind of her own the old girl, brilliant she is, I met her once, when she was human, trapped inside a woman's body, terribly sad day, that. But she was amazing and selfless and gorgeous and now she's in the box again. I talk to her sometimes and she responds, but anyway, we parked in your bedroom because she said that you were here. You give off a very distinct reading, Sherlock. And why were you here in Scotland? Presumably you're looking for Moriarty, I mean that was your big goal before your fake suicide, right? The funny thing is, in our universe, the one that River and I come from, Moriarty doesn't survive your encounter. He shoots himself in the head, but here, here the littlest thing changed that and he survived, and that's bad. Normally, I have no problem with making due when someone is the difference in a parallel reality. They can live on their own and affect that world as they will, but James Moriarty is too big of a change, too much of a threat, so River and I are here and we're going to help you on your quest. We _won't _be killing him, but we can help to track and capture him. We can even take him to a really high security prison to be held where he won't be doing any more harm. Ah, Layla. Ready to go?"

Layla marched over, all things gathered and deposited inside the TARDIS, and smoothed the hair from the now sleeping baby's eyes. "Yeah, we're all set here, Doctor."

"Splendid, thanks to you, Layla. See you inside, Sherlock!" The Doctor bobbed to smile at Xander and then spun off to the TARDIS.

Sherlock had been silent and unmoving throughout the Doctor's rant, only twitching involuntarily when the Doctor mentioned his _humane_ approach to securing Moriarty. Now, as Layla looked quietly up into his face, he readjusted the weight of his child in his arms and looked briefly down at Layla. Within seconds, he had assessed the changes the past months had had on her. He was pleased. She looked as well as he would have guessed, maybe better, the affects of motherhood seemed to suit her.

Layla smiled at the quirk of his lip, the secret sign of his happiness. He could keep Xander with him, they looked adorable together. "I'll be inside when you're ready. Xander likes you." She kissed Xander's forehead and let her hand linger on Sherlock's elbow, a quiet gesture of their unspoken affection for one another. He didn't move away from her, a token of his reciprocation.

The TARDIS door creaked and Sherlock was left alone, well mostly alone, to continue studying the impossible box.

"Well, she said you were clever and handsome, she wasn't lying." River strolled up beside Sherlock, peeked up at his purposefully blank face and then looked back at the TARDIS with him. "Irene. You remember Irene Adler, she remembers you. Made quite an impression and I can see why, but to be honest, you made the right choice with Layla. She's much more interesting, despite her basically law-abiding tendencies, than Irene. Irene, friend though she is, is fairly predictable. So, what do you think of her, the TARDIS, that is. Irene thought you'd love it, but it looks as though she might have mis-predicted."

Sherlock turned his gaze on her with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, Irene and I are old friends." River winked and then sauntered to the TARDIS doors. "I know all this is frustrating, not understanding everything or even everyone, but if you follow me inside, you'll figure it all out. Promise." She looked him over once more from over her shoulder and then slipped inside.

Sherlock frowned after the presumptuous woman with all the hair, she had been introduced to him but he couldn't have been bothered with remembering her name, she was of no account to him, and a pathological liar. There was no way that she could know Irene, he had disappeared Irene more effectively than anyone besides him could undo. Then again, they did claim to be from a different reality…

The temptation of discovering the inner workings of this vehicle soon became too much and Sherlock stepped towards the door. Time to decode the mystery of this odd pair and their machine.

Yet again, Sherlock found himself at a loss for words. He stuttered to a halt inside the impossibly large interior of the box and clasped his son closer to him. Something was amiss. His senses were fooling him.

"I told you she was amazing." The Doctor was standing at a large, ornate center console flitting about like a maniacal fairy. Sherlock instantly suspected him and his mendacious companion.

"No." Sherlock strode quickly over to Layla who was folding his clothing into a stack and grabbed her by the arm. "No. Where is the aerosol dispersal? Are they threatening you, Layla? I haven't encountered any, but have you? Is it no longer by air, it is by touch now? How? The child?" He looked at Xander as he slept and then shoved him into Layla's arms.

"It's all real, sorry, Sherlock." The Doctor galloped over and tried to usher Sherlock away from the TARDIS doors. "The universe isn't quite as observable and predictable or _known_ as you would like to believe."

Sherlock jiggled the locked door and then wheeled on the Doctor, grabbing him by the lapel. "Now is not a time to act as though you are overly clever, _Doctor_. This is simply impossible. I must be drugged, and since I can't seem to leave, you are going to tell me how you arranged this."

He shook the Doctor a little harder who held up his hands with a grin, a little too gleeful for this situation. "Well, Sherlock, _you_ can't find a drug source but you still find this impossible." The Doctor waved around at the large interior. "It seems that you would have to concede that it is not, in fact, impossible. Especially since, once you've eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be truth."

Sherlock released him and locked the Doctor with an aggressively hostile glare, his nose actually crinkling with scorn. He couldn't believe that this insane, ridiculously dressed, overly sentimental man had just quoted him. A line of reasoning he had only spoken to John once before. This man's extensive knowledge of impossible—improbable information was making it logically easier, but personally more difficult for Sherlock to believe him.

Returning to a more comfortable atmosphere of Sherlock quietly brooding and the others blathering nonsensically, the group fell into a measured murmur. The machine itself groaned and rattled as the woman with the hair operated it and the Doctor spoke in time with its rumblings while pacing around. Sherlock decided to retrieve his child, taking Xander, as Layla was calling him, and looking him over.

Having recollected the infant into his arms and thoroughly examined him, a healthy and robust child that looked remarkably like himself, Sherlock resumed the inspection of the TARDIS. He paced the entire main room before he spoke again.

"So, you're John Smith."

The Doctor paused mid-word and spun to beam down at Sherlock. "I am! So you know me—this reality's me?! How interesting."

"No." Sherlock climbed the steps to look directly, and intimidatingly, into the Doctor's eyes. The latter hardly twitched with the icy gaze. "I haven't encountered him, but John has. He mentioned once meeting a daft man with impossible technology and impossible knowledge a year or so ago. He did not describe you, however. The Dr. John Smith, he spoke of was taller, thinner and had more reasonable sense in attire."

"Yes! Same man—mostly—different face, body, everything! I'd argue with you about fashion sense, but that's too subjective and you're too obstinate! This is lovely!"

The Doctor then grew even more excited, something Sherlock supposed impossible, and bounded away from Sherlock. "Dr. Watson knows the World of Infant Infestation Doctor! We need him!" He flipped and clicked and pushed with unconcealed delight as Sherlock's irritation mounted.

The TARDIS rocked precariously and then stilled suddenly. Sherlock, after checking his son—quiet, still and gripping hard to his suit jacket, still sleeping— straightened his suit and stepped in front of the Doctor's erratic dance. His patience of this man's unreasonable mannerisms and indirect ramblings completely spent, Sherlock decided to confront him as directly as possible, skipping the pretenses and asking the most pressing question. "Where have we landed?"

The madman's face lit up with surprise and then glee. Sherlock, now trying to avoid any overabundance of emotion from this new, clearly emotionally-inclined acquaintance, rolled his eyes and nodded impatiently. "Yes, Doctor, I know that it—she's a ship. That's obvious."

The Doctor clapped Sherlock on the shoulder and the loped down to the door. "Your sitting room! Obviously!" And then he disappeared out the doors, trailing exuberance and uncorked energy.


	5. London

IN WHICH THERE IS FINALLY A MEDICAL DOCTOR

The mention of the sitting room located in 221 B drew Layla from the contented reverie into which she had fallen while watching Sherlock pace around, acting as characteristically Sherlock as usual but with their child cradled against his chest. It seemed so natural and simultaneously so impossible. She was completely taken with the sight, that was until the Doctor's boisterous voice came crashing down around her and reminded Layla that it was a painfully thin line she was toeing. They couldn't just appear in the sitting room in a preposterous, seemingly magical police box and all four and a half of them come tumbling out. It would shock the pants off of John and John, the ex-army doctor and crack shot, was not a man you would want to shock at all. John, who now constantly travelled with his pistol because of the Moriarty-threat, was liable to shoot anyone dead in that sitting room even if they looked like Sherlock. The Doctor's nutty choice in attire and all around nice guy attitude wouldn't win any brownie points with John. John was a no nonsense sort of chap and all the Doctor was was nonsense. John might shoot him just on principle.

"Oh, um, Doctor! Wait, Doctor!" Layla bolted down the center consol stairs and through the TARDIS door. "Doctor, seriously, just wait. You can't just go barging into a person's home like this." She stumbled to a stop in the middle of the room and whipped around on the spot. The apartment seemed empty, the Doctor certainly hadn't been shot yet, so perhaps John wasn't at home.

"Really, Layla, no need for such hysterics." Sherlock strolled calmly out behind her and marched straight to the back room, his bedroom.

Gaping angrily back at Sherlock, Layla turned back to the Doctor, now accompanied by River. "Actually, Sherlock, there is a need for such _caution_. John is on edge, if two strangers plus his previously dead flatmate, best friend person suddenly appeared in a stupid—"

"Now, now!" The Doctor actually frowned at this point.

"—okay, fine, an insane cop cubby, he'll probably kill us all just to be sure. Remember, _Sherlock_, you did leave Moriarty at large and in charge." Layla wasn't sure Sherlock heard her, but she fancied a noncommittal grunt drifted from the back room.

"Yes, of course, Layla. I think that absolutely makes sense." River turned an accusing eye on the Doctor and crossed her arms. "It's about time we thought about things before barreling into them."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes down at River and then tapped her nose. "Of course! Think before we act. We always do that."

"Great…" Layla glanced between the two of them, feeling a touch uncomfortable at their extended eye contact. "So, uh, from now on, I think we should be a bit more… measured in our approach with John, ease him into the whole idea. He's not unstable or anything it's just—"

"We understand, Layla. This is a great deal to take in." River patted Layla on the elbow and nudged the Doctor.

"Yes, naturally! Slow and steady!" The Doctor nodded along but seemed more focused on glancing over her shoulder, towards the back room. "I'll keep that in mind." He grinned at Layla and then slipped past her, picking things up and sniffing them on the way to Sherlock.

"Fantastic…" Layla grumbled, unconvinced by the Doctor. He was as believable as a child promising a chore in return for chocolate. "Anyways, River, I'm going to make some tea, that'll help coax John into believing all this nonsense. Do you want some?"

"I'd love some, here let me help." River followed Layla to the kitchen and the two of them set to laying out the tea tray and putting the kettle on. Just as they were settling into an easy silence and the relaxation that comes from a well-loved and endlessly performed task, the Doctor and Sherlock's conversation turned into a heated argument.

"Oh what now?" River rolled her eyes and spooned the final portion of tea leaves into the kettle.

"Now, Sherlock, you can't just kill the man. I won't allow it." The Doctor skipped along behind Sherlock as he swept back into the living room.

"I simply couldn't care any less about what you will or won't allow, Doctor. Layla, do you know where John has hidden my violin. It isn't in my room, nor is much else for that matter." Sherlock, with infant still nestled in the crook of one arm, rushed around the sitting room, overturning stacks of neatly piled papers and books before landing upon his query, John's laptop. "So. Where has he put it?"

"Uh, Sherlock, that's John's." Layla poured the last cup and stirred in Sherlock's usual milk and sugar. "If you give me a sec, I'll try and dig your stuff up. It's bound to be here somewhere. Mrs. Hudson really only gave away the lab equipment." She handed the cup to Sherlock, now sitting in his old chair, laptop on his knees and Xander in his left arm. He continued to amaze Layla with his ability to make handling a child seem absolutely effortless, and on his first day too.

"Mmm." He sipped from the cup and, setting it on the arm of the chair, turned to unlocking John's computer. "Needs more sugar."

Layla rolled her eyes, ignored the 'request', and handed the Doctor, now sitting in John's chair, his cup as prepared by River.

"Ah, thank you, Layla, River!" The Doctor gulped happily from the cup and flipped through a medical treatise John kept on the mantel. "Not as entertaining as Hippocrates', but not bad for the 21st century."

Layla stared incredulously at the Doctor and then turned to her own cup. She needed some tea to get through this day.

"Hmm. Yes, here, that explains why John is missing. He's currently engaged with an M Morstan. Do you know of this M Morstan, Layla? His schedule says nothing besides the name and the hour."

"Nope. No clue, sorry, Sherlock." Layla settled down heavily at the kitchen table and drank deeply from her cup. It was perfect and she could feel everything finally normalizing around her. Yes, she definitely made the right choice with the tea. The tea will help John with all this bull.

"Layla. Layla. Layla, didn't you hear me?" She withdrew her nose from her cup and glared over at Sherlock. "I asked if he had mentioned this M Morstan before?"

"I already told you, Sherlock, I haven't the foggiest." She suddenly remembered the awful knot in between her shoulders that had been working up into a headache since this kerfuffle started. Sherlock was very good at giving her a headache. "Wait what was that?" She caught River and the Doctor sharing yet another weighted look as she kneaded her shoulder.

"Hmm?" Sherlock didn't look from the screen and seemed generally uninterested in anything that wasn't concerned with this M Morstan. The Doctor and River looked innocently at Layla and then shrugged in unison. Tired of all of this and just plain exhausted, Layla shook her head and returned to her tea, and thus to some normality.

A few minutes later, Layla finally relaxed entirely into her cup of tea and had actually begun to enjoy the silent and frankly harsh aloofness of Sherlock amidst the bubbling and nonsensical chatting of the time travelers. As she rose to pour a second cup and maybe make a cheese sandwich, she heard the echoing bumping of the street door downstairs; someone was unlocking 221. Glancing away from Sherlock, who was mid-swipe shooing the Doctor from Xander, Layla poured a fresh cup of tea with a splash of milk, no sugar for John and then hurried to the entrance of 221B. A quick look behind her assured Layla that everyone was quiet, waiting to 'ease' John in, so she squared her shoulders positioning herself exactly in the center of the door frame, blocking John's view into the flat, and held the cup of tea in front of her with a plastered grin on her face.

Sure enough, it was John returning to the flat, completely oblivious to the odd crowd clustered in his sitting room. A silly grin adorned his face as he mounted the first stairs, slowly but not due to his old limp, rather because he was trying to text at the same time and was failing miserably. Instead, he would mount a few stairs, pause as he typed and then climb a few more. Soon Layla's smile was no longer forced as she fought the urge to giggle at John's funny stair dance. Finally, once John neared the head of the stairs and caught sight of Layla's shadow at his feet, he looked up at her, now confused.

"Hi, John. You look flummoxed. Have a cup of tea." Layla extended the cooling cup to John and smiled even wider.

"Flummoxed, Layla? Ta." John accepted the cup with a nod but paid it no mind, focusing instead on his guest. "What are you doing back? Where's Xander?" He tried to look around Layla but neither of them budged from their spots. "And how are you even here? I mean, weren't you just in Surrey, on foot, yesterday? Oh." He mounted another step and peered over Layla's shoulder, tea still neglected. "Oh, that's that box. Where is—uh—what was it?" He gently pushed past Layla and stepped up to the TARDIS. "Dr. John Smith, that was his name. Where's Dr. Smith?"

On cue, the Doctor popped up from the chair and appeared around the TARDIS. "Yes, that's me! Doctor Smith." He straightened his bowtie and waved.

John was not charmed. He dropped his brows incredulously and took a swig from his now cold tea. "You're winding me up. Really, where is he? Taller, thinner than you, long, brown coat." He shifted to his other foot and stared the Doctor down.

"No, no. That's me. I'm John Smith, the Doctor. I—er—just had some work down." The Doctor grinned again and twiddled his fingers. Layla looked between the two men nervously. John wasn't reaching for his gun or anything, but he certainly wasn't buying into the Doctor's story. She sighed with relief as John's shoulders relaxed but when he made to step around the blue box she tensed up again, Sherlock was around the corner.

"Well, Doctor," John shrugged away the Doctor but peered back at him with narrowed eyes as he passed, "I _believed_… so—" John turned to his chair and then froze. "Sherlock, you dick." He didn't shout or lash out, John just clenched his fists beside his legs and shook his head with thinned lips.

Sherlock didn't look away from the computer screen as he pointed towards his bedroom. "Where have you put my violin, John, and the rest of my things? I really hope you and Mrs. Hudson didn't try to organize it or something, that would be a shame."

John's fist flexed with his jaw and he cleared his throat but his voice remained calm, curt, but calm. "It's all in Layla's cupboard, dick."

Sherlock rose from his seat and after handing Xander to Layla padded quickly down the stairs. The remaining four shifted uneasily in the lingering awkward silence. Layla felt the need to explain things to John, herself, Sherlock, their two guests but John's calm was obviously containing his low smoldering impatience. She didn't want it to become high or raging. Despite it being Sherlock, they all breathed in relief when he returned.

"You couldn't have stored them in a place less filthy?" Sherlock still didn't look at John, or at anyone for that matter, when he strode back in with violin in hand.

John rolled his right shoulder and breathed in sharply through his nose. "So, is this" he nodded briskly at the TARDIS "how you did it? This machine—box thing?" John pursed his lips as he waited for Sherlock's response.

Sherlock, busy tuning the violin, suddenly fixed John with his gaze. "Who is M Morstan?" John stared blankly at Sherlock and then rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh when he saw his laptop open in Sherlock's chair. Sherlock, impatient of John's silence, huffed and then reached into his suit jacket. "There. I borrowed that from you." He bounced a small, blue rubber ball to John and then turned with his violin to the window.

John caught the ball, stared at it in his palm for a few seconds then looked from Sherlock's back to the Doctor and finally to Layla. "What is going on?"

No one answered as John grasped the ball in his hand and glared at Sherlock. River edged over from the kitchen where she had been silently watching the events unfold and urged a fresh cup of tea into John's hand. "Ta. John mumbled, only half aware of the kindness and then snapped his head to River. "Wait, who are you?"

River smiled gently but didn't attempt to explain, the Doctor instead swooped over and, taking John by the shoulders, steered him towards the TARDIS doors. "Alright, Dr. Watson, a lot to take in, I know, but time is of the essence, ha, well, really we have all the time in the world, but it's easier if we hurry. Come on now, in we go. We can sort everything out inside—"

John stiffened and planted his heels in the rug. "No. Stop. Just, everyone. STOP." He finally raised his voice. Sherlock turned with eyebrow raised and Layla squirmed anxiously. "Can anyone explain anything to me?!"

"Yes, John. That's obviously what the Doctor is trying to do, albeit inefficiently." Sherlock rolled his eyes as if John were the village idiot and strode into the TARDIS, violin, computers and all. John wilted just a smidge and allowed the Doctor to guide him inside.

"Well, Dr. Watson, basically, Moriarty is alive and he shouldn't be and we're here to help, River and I. This is Dr. River Song, archaeologist and bang up person all around. You already know me, I'm the Doctor, sometimes John Smith, and well, I don't need to introduce Layla, Xander or Sherlock. Happy marriage, by the way, she's lovely really—"

"What?" John tried to interject but the Doctor continued chattering right over him.

"—I know how that is, brilliant, fetching lady, take Dr. Song for example, or Layla for Sherlock or… the TARDIS, this old girl." He spun around, now inside the box and then shoved the gaping John further inside. "She's gorgeous isn't she!? Time and space, all of it at our disposal because of this gorgeous girl. Sherlock certainly had a hard time with her, so take your time, take her all in. She isn't impossible but she is amazing. So what I want to know, Dr. Watson, is what I said to you before, well not me, not really me, me, yes, the Doctor but a different version of me, me from this universe. You see, River and I are parallel universe versions, we live in a world free of Moriarty, so I need to know what this universe me—"

John sighed again, sick of trying to get a word in edgewise and rounded on the Doctor. "Look, this giant spaceship is spiffing and all but can you really, properly answer just one damn question?! I believe in Sherlock Holmes, like you—or one of the yous—told me to. I did like I was told, but I still don't understand. What was happening, what is happening? I'd like an explanation."

The Doctor rubbed his fingers together and fumbled again for his words. "Well, Dr. Watson, that was what I was getting to. I need to know what this universe's, the world of impossible infants' Doctor had to say to you, why he visited you."

John rolled his eyes, clearly fed up with the Doctor, marched over to Sherlock, who was lounging against the TARDIS consol and typing away on John's computer, and snatched it from him. Turning to Layla, John rolled his neck and met her eye. "What the bloody hell is happing, Layla? Please tell me you're still sane, can you, oh I don't know, explain? Anything, something, one bleeding thing." He was more exasperated than angry at this point.

"Oh, John, I wish I could explain." She shrugged. "I'm as clueless as you are, but as far as I can tell, everything the Doctor says is true. So," she took a tentative step towards John, "maybe you could help us out, speed this whole garbled thing along, and tell us what the first Doctor Smith told you."

"Yeah, fine." John slumped onto the one seat and rubbed a hand over his face, remembering his tea with a sigh. "Uh, oh that's lovely. Well, it was last year. Sherlock was out, probably with you, Layla, and I was just here—or in the sitting room, reading the papers when out of nothing this daft box appeared—and I mean literally appeared, materialized in front of me." He punctuated each sentence with a sip of tea and a contented hum. "This bloke stepped out, not _this_ one but he claimed to be the same man, and after a hurried speech about timelines and some nonsense, told me to believe in Sherlock, and he really accentuated that I had to believe in him no matter what. Then, as an afterthought almost, he handed me this rubber ball," John pulled the blue ball from his jacket, "after that, he and this box just vanished."

Layla nodded when John fell silent, focusing grumpily on his tea. She looked to the Doctor who looked unusually crestfallen. "Problem, Doctor?"

"Oh, well…" A serious shadow passed over his face. "It seems I—he—was trying to correct some mistake. I fear me from here may have accidentally altered the events of this world and visited Dr. Watson in order to right his actions without crossing timelines."

"So…" Layla watched the Doctor's face closely.

"It doesn't matter." Sherlock piped up from behind her. "I'm going to _correct_ it all myself."

"Yes, well, we'll see, but for now," the Doctor's face lightened again with his manic joy and he danced over to the center panels, "we at least know I won't be interrupted by… other me! So onwards!" He pulled a lever down on the consol and the TARDIS rocked violently.

"Oi!" John grumbled as his tea tipped over. "Now what?!"

"Moriarty, of course!" The Doctor pulled the overhead screen in front of him and turned some dials.

"Where?" Sherlock appeared beside him.

"The ole girl is pointing here, I say we try it out." The Doctor pulled a few more switches and rode out the rockings and bumps of the TARDIS, Sherlock swaying along, while Layla and John struggled to stay upright and save their tea. "There seems to be an epicenter of crime here, that's where we should go. For whatever reason, Moriarty himself is hidden from her for now, but she seems pretty confident with Scotland again, Pollok, oh! A castle! How exciting!"


	6. Pollok

**A/N: This one's pretty long and really dialogue heavy, oops!**

IN WHICH A TRAP IS SPRUNG

"A castle?" John rolled his eyes with exasperation and turned to Layla. "What next? Unicorns?"

"Well, we are in Scotland!" The Doctor leaned against the railing and waggled his eyebrows at John.

"So, we've actually moved?" John walked down the stairs with Layla and River, whispering conspiratorially.

"Let's go outside and see." River grinned and reached for the door.

"Wait! Wait, River. Plan. We all need a plan, a good, solid plan of approach and one that doesn't include guns or other explosion-y things… River." The Doctor lifted an eyebrow at the trio by the door and swung around to the hanging monitor.

"I agree with the Doctor," everyone looked with surprise towards Sherlock, "that is, that we need a plan. I have a fundamental difference of opinion pertaining to the issue of violence." Sherlock shrugged his shoulder as though dismissing the Doctor's opinion. "Nonetheless, when dealing with Moriarty well devised preparation is the safest route. So, Doctor, how should we go about this? Exactly where in this castle, this…" Sherlock peered at the screen, "Crookston Castle, is Moriarty located?"

"Thank you, Sherlock," the Doctor grinned and wagged a finger back at Sherlock standing behind him, "the way I see it is, uh, that we go inside, and then we walk until we… uh find him, and… and then" the Doctor sprinted down the stairs and under the consol, returning with a set of handcuffs, "we slap these on him and voila! Muzzled Moriarty!" The Doctor spun the very ordinary looking handcuffs around his index finger and smiled from Sherlock to the three standing in front of the door. His smile wilted a touch when he received dead stares from both.

"Be serious, Doctor." Sherlock's voice reflected his unimpressed glare.

"I am. Quite serious, as serious as… as anything. Oh," he looked at the cuffs, "these aren't ordinary cuffs. That's the problem, eh? These are _extra_ordinary cuffs, close them on someone's wrist and they're more than bound, they're completely paralyzed." He looked again, hoping for more enthusiasm from his audience but received none still. "You see, they over-stimulate the electrical receptors in the—"

"No, Doctor." Sherlock was collecting his coat and scarf and pulling on his gloves.

"I'm sorry, no, what?"

"No, your 'plan' can hardly be considered such. We'll be doing things my way, thank you."

"And just what way is that, Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked up from straightening the fingers on his right glove and raised an eyebrow. "We'll use the tracking device your friend, River is her name, over there is fiddling with now, find Moriarty and kill him before he can return the favor." Sherlock flashed a forced grin and then threaded his scarf into a knot.

"Nope, nope, nope, sorry, Sherlock, but nope!" The Doctor hopped about fidgeting in front of Sherlock.

"Move." Sherlock tried to push past him but the Doctor actually took a firm stance and blocked his path. "Doctor, don't compel me to use the means you so fervently avoid."

"I really am sorry, but I just can't allow it under my watch, not while I'm the one aiding your arrival. I'll feel responsible." The Doctor shook his head but looked at the floor in front of Sherlock's feet.

Sherlock crossed his arms glaring at the Doctor with spite. "I am hardly under you watch. I would have made it here in time, perhaps even sooner if you hadn't interrupted my pursuits. You haven't the jurisdiction to make such a call."

"But you are Sherlock, somehow you may have gotten here without me, but you did actually arrive here because of me. So, now I am in charge and I forbid murder. I can't allow it, so, handcuffs." The Doctor finally raised his eyes from the floor and met Sherlock's glare matching its intensity.

"I find your mindless mantra of non-violence irrational. You said yourself that Moriarty is dead in your reality, killed himself in fact, I see no intrinsic moral dilemma in righting that wrong." Sherlock took another step forward effectively eliminating the space between them.

The Doctor pressed his eyes tight for a few instants and when he opened them again smiled wearily. "Oh, dear Sherlock, this isn't about rationality or the circumstances in my world. It comes down to the bare and simple truth that no one _deserves_ to be killed, no matter how broken, and if they do have to die we aren't the ones to decide it. That is all." The Doctor looked tired, and suddenly old.

Sherlock snorted and stepped back, arms folded behind his back and hands clasped. He was on the precipice of a lecture. "I'm not dealing with what is 'deserved' but what is necessitated. This situation demands that we address how these pieces will fit together and the result of that sequence of events. With all of time and space at your disposal, Doctor, I would have concluded that you are well versed in causality. Allowing Moriarty to live because he doesn't _deserve_ to die instigates a whole chain of these events, inevitably ending with his escape and further obliteration of civil order and, since they mean so much to you, innocent lives, Doctor." Sherlock snapped his mouth shut and spun on the ball of his foot to smirk back at the Doctor.

The Doctor nodded, that same sad smile quieting his face, and turned away from Sherlock. "You're right, Sherlock, totally and completely right." Sherlock looked positively smug as the Doctor walked away from him and towards Layla. "I see all of the scenarios, all the variants, every link in every chain of every event cluster."

His voice was uncharacteristically hard as he stopped in front of Layla, holding his hands out. Layla raised an eyebrow and the Doctor's smile softened into his former grin, so she relented and allowed him to scoop Xander into his arms. "And I know not just the consequences you would consider negative, but I can see the positive results from each decision." He met Sherlock's eye for an extra second before setting Xander in the crook of his arm.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he gathered Xander towards him but then scoffed. "You can't expect me to believe that Moriarty's continued existence is responsible for my son's existence."

The Doctor tarried beside Sherlock, ruffling the baby's curls before standing upright and responding. "Uh, well…" he twisted his fingers with nervous energy, "no. No, not precisely, but a negative thing—Layla's second trip to the surgery—allowed for her to care for a child that otherwise would have not survived."

"Are you threatening us?" Sherlock stood up a little straighter, his eyes shone a little colder.

"No!" The Doctor hopped back. "Not even a bit, not at all. Just trying to make a point by an analog—apparently too personal a one." He looked back at the group beside the door, River specifically, with a question on his face, maybe a request, like he was looking for help. Layla glanced over at River and caught her simpering; she was enjoying the Doctor's floundering.

"Are you insinuating that Xander does not exist in your reality?"

Sherlock's question drew the Doctor back. He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, yes. I thought you already knew that, no. That was Layla. Dear me. So… bad example. Then, let's move on—" The speed of the Doctor's response seemed to further peeve Sherlock and he suddenly snapped.

"No. Stop prattling." Sherlock held out a hand and closed his eyes. "You are from an alternate reality. Although, from your familiarity with the events of our world not a drastically alternate one. Thus, you are only pointing out differences between the two, not similarities. That list would be too large." He was pacing now, gesturing with his free hand with short jabs, punctuating each point. "You knew _of_ John, but you hadn't met John. This alternate you had met him but you hadn't, so that is another difference between our realities." Sherlock's eyes widened as the pitch of his voice rose along with its volume and speed. "You're hesitant to harm Moriarty because you don't know what you did to require the trip to Baker St. You think that it might have something to do with Moriarty and you want to interrogate him. Don't you?" Sherlock rounded on the Doctor and stared intently at him, waiting for his response and evaluating his reactions.

The Doctor, clearly taken off guard, opened and closed his mouth a few times and held up a finger. " Well… yes, but—"

Sherlock leapt towards him, like a cat on a mouse. "You might have something to do with Moriarty being alive. This isn't about him not _deserving_ to die, it's about you figuring out what is happening." Sherlock laughed and drew a deep breath. "As much as I distrust you for trying to save Moriarty, I have to applaud your desire for objective observation." He laughed again and tightened his pacing to encircle the Doctor.

"No, Sherlock," the Doctor's voice was losing its good natured levity, "who's to say those are mutually exclusive?" Sherlock paused and his expression stiffened. "I know it's difficult to be that brilliant but still not know _everything_. _I_ learn something new daily, if not many things—"

"Stop _empathizing_ and explain." Sherlock spat the words out as if they were bitter.

The Doctor sighed, "I won't patronize you, Sherlock, it's quite clear. I am an observer—or I try to be—so who am I to determine who deserves to live or die? My investigation would look into how the me from here was involved and I will correct only so much as I—he has changed personally, but I will not kill anyone or anything because they shouldn't be adversely affected by me. Ever, if I can help it."

"I will not quibble with you about philosophy, it bores me, but by your own rationale, there is no reason I cannot take that responsibility on my own apathetic shoulders." Sherlock seemed bored again, bored and dismissive of the Doctor.

"No. Listen to me, Sherlock, because now I am serious." The Doctor's voice was quiet, even, but by no means gentle. "I will not condone, aid or abet in any course of action that results in murder." He stepped up to stare Sherlock down and both men straightened their stances, inching ever closer until they basically stood nose to nose.

Up until this moment River, Layla and John had stood beside the TARDIS doors watching the battle of brilliance play out like a tennis match, waiting to see who would earn match point, but in the extended silence the three of them relaxed and began to fidget. Finally, River sighed and then quietly nudged the other two.

"I've seen enough of this my-brain-is-bigger-than-your-brain ego collision," her voice was just barely a whisper but Layla and John could still hear the amusement in it, "if we wait until this bravado competition is resolved we might miss our chance. So, are you two interested in less cerebral dialectic on action and more—well—action?"

Layla and John both nodded in agreement.

"Alright, let's go do." River broke into her impish grin and pushed the TARDIS door open without a creak.

At first, as the door tapped shut behind them, John and Layla were uncertain exactly where they were. The Doctor and Sherlock had both mentioned a castle but the musty, dank ruin they found themselves in hardly reminded them of a castle. River paused and peered into the half dark. Through the rafters above the bright light of midday shone through but the interior of this place felt like it was sunk into a permanent twilight. Layla fidgeted nervously. The whole place gave her the heebie-jeebies.

"We're in the main hall, the public hall, I think." River kept her voice low, despite the entire place being pretty obviously abandoned. "This place has been left to decompose, such a shame. Let me check out the specs before we move. It's so derelict I'm worried it might not be safe to walk through." She nodded to the right and the left were the large recesses in the masonry led to gaping holes instead of more building.

"Fine by me." John grunted and pulled his gun out of his coat, checking it compulsively.

A quiet beeping told Layla that River had powered up her little tablet device and she turned to look over her shoulder. River turned on the spot pointing the gadget at each exit and tapping the screen intermittedly. "Right. Here we go. The northwest and southwest towers are collapsed, probably not safe at all, so we'll avoid those quadrants entirely. But the southeast and northeast towers are both intact, in fact, the north east still has a below ground chamber. Let's start—wait, okay, I have life signs coming from the ground level room of the northeast tower. This way." River pointed to the left and then quietly led the way, Layla and John falling in step beside her.

Layla, feeling markedly more on edge as they moved away from the TARDIS, giggled nervously, her mind still on the occupants they were leaving behind. "I wonder how long it'll take them to realize that we've left. They may be geniuses but they sure seem dense sometimes." The joking tone of her voice was too forced, too loud, but the others responded with muted laughter.

"Yeah, those two, I'm impressed." John glanced back over his shoulder and palmed his gun in his jacket pocket. Apparently, he was feeling antsy as well. "I mean, I'm having a hard time registering the fact that there is actually someone out there who can properly put Sherlock in his place. And not even Mycroft can do that. Despite all that brainpower, they still haven't run out after us." He shook his head with a chuckle but didn't really look amused.

"Oh, the Doctor means business, he isn't bluffing all that." Layla turned back from watching the TARDIS recede behind them and studied River's face. She seemed to genuinely adore that man, the warmth behind her grin as she lingered on her thought of the Doctor was sweet. Then her face resumed its mischievous grin. "But don't let him fool you, he isn't as infallible as he makes himself seen. He's made mistakes, lost his temper but he's gotten a bit soft these last few faces. Made some bad choices, personally I think he's about to make another one." She pocketed her tablet and pulled out her pistol, checked its charge and then re-holstered it. "I think we should shoot Moriarty dead, but I've never had the issue with guns the Doctor's had."

"I don't understand it," John studied River's clearly futuristic gun for a second and then narrowed his eyes at her, "how is it he can have such a problem with killing people and still let you have that."

"Who said he _lets _me do anything?" River quirked an eyebrow. "In all actuality, he has a complex, likes to act righteous but he's done his fair share of killing—genocide really. There are these completely merciless creatures called Daleks—" River's eyes flitted between the uncomprehending faces of Layla and John, "they're aliens." Still no reaction. "Suffice it to say he's killed, when he finds it morally permissible. Honestly, he should find it permissible more often, would have avoided other issues, the Master, for example…" River trailed off. The air had become more uncomfortable amid the three of them and not just because the touchy moral issue at hand. This section of the castle smelled unnervingly like death.

John cleared his throat. "I don't know about the other cases, but I'm also on Sherlock's side for Moriarty, although I hate to admit it." He licked his lips and paused, almost like he was taste testing the next few words. "Sherlock's made some heartless decisions in the past, but this time his apathy is important. For our safety, for everyone's safety, Moriarty needs to die. Otherwise, there'll be no end to it."

Layla nodded her head in agreement and River followed suit. "Well, I'm glad we have a consensus. Let's just keep it to ourselves for now, the Doctor hates being played."

"Speaking of," Layla again broke the tension with a giggle, "how do you think that jousting bout is going back there? Do you think they've torn each other apart yet? I mean, who'll win? Is it even possible for there to be a winner between the two of them?"

John snorted. "I doubt it'll be counted as a win for either of them is they come to a resolution, but I also doubt that. When has Sherlock ever admitted defeat?"

"Never." Layla mumbled.

"Right, getting him to admit that he was wrong about the Baskervilles case was harder than pulling teeth and there it wasn't an important point and he was in a corner. Here? Here, he won't stop until Moriarty's dead or out of his reach."

"Mmmm." River nodded and then held out a hand, they had reached a vestibule leading to another section of the castle. "The Doctor is less stubborn about admitting errors, and trust me he's made his fair share, but he's no less resilient when he believes he's in the right. There is no way they'll stop arguing of their own accord. There'll be no winner between them." She pulled the tablet gadget out again and surveyed the new area. "Okay, the readings are just ahead. Light on our feet, yeah?"

Layla and John nodded and followed her in.

"It's always funny when he finds he's been wrong, the Doctor, he gets so twitchy." River chuckled naughtily and leaned closer to Layla. "And for knowing so much, there are just certain things he doesn't know a _thing_ about." She winked and Layla laughed as well.

"Yeah, Sherlock can't claim to be any different. For all that book learning, there are specific things only _experience_ can teach you. He hated admitting his novice status then." Layla paused when she noticed John shifting uncomfortably. Suddenly, another thought popped into her mind. "So, John, just who is this M Morstan?"

John looked startled for a second but then couldn't help the grin that pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Well, I was at surgery. There was basically a pandemic of flu last month and I'd been seeing children all week and one of the cases was escorted by their—oof!"

John's explanation was sharply cut off by the ten foot drop that opened up beneath their feet. What had just been the fairly stable floor of the northeast tower had suddenly become open air and the three of them tumbled into the basement chamber below.

"Ugh." Layla couldn't form coherent words, although she knew what she wanted to say. She wanted to say 'what the hell just happened?' "Wah—" She gasped as the throbbing worsened in her head. She had landed pretty hard on her side and her bleary mind was aware enough to assess that the bouncing of her head upon that landing was probably responsible for a concussion.

"Layla… Dr. Watson… eeeff… are you two alright?" From the corner of Layla's eye she saw River's hair moving.

"Yup. In pain, but alright, Layla?" John's voice was precise and gruff and very close, so Layla reached out. "Oh, there you are. Alright?"

"Head. Hurts." Layla managed to murmur as she grabbed John's jacket and reached towards the aforementioned source of pain. She found warm wetness. She was bleeding. "I'm bleeding."

"Yeah, I would expect so. That was a fair height." John's face appeared above her and then River. "Just hold still—"

"Excuse me, John. Layla, this will pinch a bit." River pushed John aside and then held her tablet next to Layla's head. A bit of light and a pinch later, Layla was feeling remarkably better.

"What—"

"Technology, it's handy." River stepped away as Layla sat up. "And your turn, John. Hold still." River passed her gadget over John and then herself. "Luckily just small ruptures and abrasions, so everyone's mended."

"That's… amazing." John shook out his left arm and then stared at River's device. "How?"

"Healing app." River shrugged cheekily and then made a pass around the room. "Looks like we've found the dungeon, kids."

"Indeed you did." A rough, dry voice floated down to them from above and everyone jumped to look up at the hole in the ceiling. "Although," he drew out the word, "you're not the intended prisoners." The man's silhouette disappeared briefly just to be replaced by a pair of legs. He was seat on the edge of the trapdoor and leaning over her knees to watch them. "I expected the deadman's handler, that pudgy copper, Lestrade. I had no idea I would be welcoming such a delicious pair of vigilantes or dear, Dr. Watson for that matter. So sweet that you're here, what with your new bird out there, waiting for you to save her."

John stiffened next to Layla, reaching for his pocket, but River stopped him, holding out a hand and speaking up. "You're not exactly who we expected, either. Why're you here and not your big, bad, boss?"

The man scoffed, a harsh, grating sound. "Oh, Jim, figured someone was tracking us. The strategic obliteration of the cells around here was a pretty clear clue. He packed up and left us here, a little surprise for his over-ambitious fan." The sneer was evident in his voice even though they couldn't see his face.

He snapped his fingers and another set of silhouettes blackened their overhead light source. Layla counted three men, one for each of them, standing on the edge and she was pretty sure they each had guns. The mechanical slides and clicks a few second later confirmed her suspicion.

"Well, this was a nice chat and a pleasant surprise. Nice meeting you. Hope you found what you were looking for!" Three rapid shots filled the room with ringing and floored their assailants before the man above could even rise from his seated position. River took down the henchmen easily and even caught the man in charge in the leg with a fourth shot as he was leaping up to leave.

A clattering thumping above told them that the man had ran off and River lowered her gun. "Well…" she sighed and turned to calmly dismantling her spent charges. "I think I missed him."

"If you call getting shot in the arse a missed target." John was still staring up at the entrance with gun at the ready.

River chuckled and reloaded her weapon. "Yes, perhaps you're right. I would've preferred to have had an immobilized enemy to make up for the bodies upstairs. We'll be saved soon enough, the Doctor will have heard the blasts and will be coming to scold me. Oh well, I do love a good scolding." She simpered impishly and holstered her gun.

"Maybe they'll catch him on their way in, you're a great shot, by the way." John too lowered his weapon and turned to River. "Who did you say you were again?"

"Dr. River Song, archaeologist."

"Archaeologist…" John's brows rose quizzically. "Really liked Indiana Jones, eh?"

"You have no idea," River basically purred. "I even have a bull whip."

While the three doctors were exploring the castle, Sherlock and the Doctor had indeed not come to an agreement within the TARDIS.

Sherlock had broken the heavy silence that hung upon the Doctor's threat and mention of murder. "You think I'm not _deathly_ serious, Doctor?"

"I am aware of your level of seriousness, Sherlock. That will not stop me, however. You may think you are the most brilliant man in every room but I can and will assure you that I am beyond anything you have ever encountered. Do not underestimate me, Sherlock Holmes." The Doctor's mouth was a hard line as Sherlock narrowed his eyes and sneered his response.

"Or what, Doctor? You'll do… what? Not kill me, surely." Sherlock's voice turned mocking, "who are you to say I deserve that?"

"There was a reason I never sought you out before, Sherlock Holmes, in my own universe." The Doctor shook his head, disappointment clearly written in the lines of his forehead.

"Oh, do I not _live_ up to your expectations, am I undeserving of your incomparably majestic presence?" Sherlock tilted up his chin so that he could glare down his nose at the Doctor.

"Sherlock, you are a damaged individual and my presence has only aggravated those wounds, my apologies. I will do what I can to correct that." The Doctor's face had softened as he stepped away from Sherlock.

Sherlock hesitated, brow furrowed and nose curled in confusion—or disgust. "So, you admit your culpability in this and then collapse into self-loathing?"

"Why not?" The Doctor sank onto the console's seat and rubbed his brow.

"Because you are so beyond anything I've ever encountered…" Sherlock finally seemed at a loss, despite his sarcasm. "How is this" he gestured indignantly at the Doctor, "ultra-human?"

The Doctor responded without lifting his face from his cupped hands. "Oh, Sherlock, I'm old and tired and I've done this for so long now. This argument is a waste of both of our time and energies. We will never agree." He leaned back and wearily met Sherlock's eyes. "Our philosophies are too fundamentally discordant . We shouldn't quibble, as you said." He dropped his head again and rubbed his eyes with a sigh.

"Are you conceding? I'm afraid you haven't proved why or how I've underestimated you?" Sherlock was basically preening with his victory at this point.

"Enough, Sherlock. We are essentially on the same side. We both need Moriarty to be not active. I think we should discuss how we might achieve that and then address the method of decommissioning him when the opportunity actually arises. No point in fruitless hypothetical squabbling."

Sherlock pursed his lips but nodded. "Fine. Where should we start?" He laid Xander down in his papoose beside the consol and collected his violin, plucking it churlishly.

"I think location is a good place to start." The Doctor stood and fiddled with the TARDIS monitor. "For instance, the location within this location. Life signs are positive in—" the zappy peel of laser shot rang out over the TARDIS speakers and the Doctor jumped. "—River?" He spun on the spot and looked around the empty room. No River.

"They've left." Sherlock strode to the door, violin still in hand, and the Doctor sprinted out behind him.

"RIVER!" He shouted as he passed Sherlock and darted down the great hall to the left. "River!" He snapped as he slid to a stop at the edge of the trapdoor.

"Yes, Doctor?" River answered coquettishly as Sherlock's silhouette joined the Doctor's.

"What were you thinking?" He sounded positively cross.

"Not about moral ramifications or passive observation, if you haven't already figured that out." Layla knew Sherlock was fighting off a haughty smirk.

"About surviving, Doctor. They were going to shoot us, so I shot them first." She shrugged lightly. "You didn't catch a hobbling be-scarred man on the way in, did you?"

"What?" Sherlock leaned further over the edge and Layla could hear the urgency in his question. "Moran? Did you shoot Moran? Moriarty wasn't here?"

"I shot him in the bum while he was running away." River's voice carried up and was closely followed by John's.

"No, Moriarty wasn't here. Sorry, Sherlock."

Sherlock swore and turned away, beginning to pluck his violin. Layla had been watching with growing apprehension. Something was wrong that she could put her finger on, but when Sherlock started playing the violin her eyes darted to the Doctor in panic. She figured out the missing piece.

"Where's Xander?" Her voice was over-shrill. Sherlock would criticize her for hysterics, she thought as she screeched out the question again. "Where is Xander?!"

The Doctor shot straight up and then bolted off, accompanied by Sherlock by the sound of rapid and receding pounding. Seconds later the TARDIS materialized beside the three in the dungeon and the Doctor rushed, basically tumbling out of the door with a sheepish smile. "He's… he's inside," he panted.

Layla glared at him and then marched inside to find Sherlock literally turning the baby over in an inspection.

"He's fine." Sherlock mumbled, guilt rippling through his tone.

"Yeah, yeah." Layla snatched the baby from him, set him into John's arms and grabbed onto Sherlock's lapel, dragging him to the privacy of an adjoining corridor. She had some bitching to do at him which warranted a bit of privacy.

The Doctor, it seemed, had had a similar idea in mind, and having led River to the consol was now hurriedly and quietly discussing what just happened with River. "I'm trying to convince Sherlock of _not_ killing. You're not helping."

"You like it." River leaned in close and purred into his ear.

"Yeah, but—no! River, stop it."

John, meanwhile, stood in the awkward middle space hearing bits and snippets of each conversation, not entire sentences but enough to make him feel uncomfortable. Eventually, he became exasperated and sat down heavily on the seat with a shake of his head. "What now, Xander?"

The humming clatter of the consol drew back his attention. The Doctor was stalking around it, manipulating gadgets and flipping switches, all the while trying to escape the sultry whispers of River. The whole room rocked violently and both Layla and Sherlock shouted, startled by the movement.

"We need to recuperate!" The Doctor bellowed over Layla and Sherlock's protests and River's flirting. "With more space!" He edged away from her sneaking hand and pulled another lever. "Everybody out!"


	7. Orkney

IN WHICH THERE IS AN UNEXPECTED ACQUAINTANCE

"Out! Out! Out you go!" The Doctor's voice sounded even more strained as he ushered everyone out of the TARDIS.

"I hardly see how we can recuperate in any place with _more_ space." Sherlock strode past obediently but made his opinion known, loudly. "This TARDIS seems to be infinitely larger and safer than… where are we exactly? The Ring of Brogdar? Of all places…" He rolled his eyes and pushed passed Layla who was gaping at the sight.

"Wow. This is gorgeous, Doctor. What was it you called it, Sherlock? The Ring of what?" She turned on the spot to absorb the sight but then paused on Sherlock's bored, patrician expression. "Never mind. We were having a conversation." She stomped towards him and he herded her to a pillar out of the other's ear shot.

"Can you tell me exactly how that gigantic, brilliant, hyperdrive of a processor you use as a brain skipped over the fact that you had left a living, breathing individual, who happens to be your _offspring_, on the floor of an alien spacecraft in preference for a VIOLIN?"

Sherlock huffed impatiently out of his nose but offered another empty apology. "I made a mistake," he shrugged lazily and stared over Layla's head.

He was watching John. Unfortunate John, tossed into a whirlwind of technology and action without a warning. At least Sherlock and Layla had been looking for this trouble, it fell on John's lap, in his sitting room. That being said, he was handling everything fairly well. His time with Sherlock had attuned him to the mercurial nature of chance. Although at that moment, Sherlock fought the urge to mock the man with difficulty. John was standing, dazed and exhausted in the center of the ring, twisting in the wake of the Doctor and muttering to Xander. Sherlock's eyes narrowed as Layla's voice squeaked up another octave but he continued watching John. The man certainly was good with _his_ son. Sherlock wondered how much time John had spent sitting with the baby, replacing him as a father figure. Disgusted with the feeling of jealousy, Sherlock rolled his shoulders and redirected his train of thought and the conversation with Layla.

"Enough with the histrionics, Layla." Her eyes bulged at Sherlock's chiding and she opened her mouth for another bout of shouting. "Honestly, woman, I've apologized and there are more important matters at hand."

"More. Important. Matters." Her voice was at least quieter. "More important than your _son_?"

"For the time being, yes, especially since all of our, including his, safety relies on the eradication of Moriarty."

It was Layla's turn to roll her eyes. She was getting tired of Sherlock's obsession with Moriarty, even if it was 'necessary.' She paused, along with Sherlock, as the Doctor's voice floated over. He was spinning around frantically avoiding River while dragging John on a tour of the ring, telling stories all the while.

"And when we landed the locals, a tribe of pre-Viking islanders, were having a groovy solstice party. Quite the bonfire. Had some lovely steak that night…" His voice drifted back out of range and Layla turned back to Sherlock.

"You are honestly, absolutely unbelievable." She spat at him. "With all your concern about Moriarty, you might just get us all killed anyways, one act of distracted negligence at a time." Sherlock's eyes flinched with what Layla knew was hurt but she barreled on. "I thought I had missed you. I guess not really, just missed the idea of you, some far off fantasy you might, on an off chance, embody." Layla hissed her words angrily, more at herself than at Sherlock. She knew to expect this.

Sherlock, however, was nodding along with her emotional snaps. For him, it was expected, he _had_ made a mistake, he had even admitted it. "Yes, I know you're upset, for once rightfully so, and making an admirably accurate assessment of your own psyche."

"Oh, come off—" Layla paused and looked up at Sherlock. She couldn't meet his eyes as he was intently surveying their surroundings but had sounded genuine. She was shocked. "Wait… what? You're… agreeing with me?" Her brow furrowed, suddenly feeling suspicious of his lack of contentiousness. "What do you want?"

Sherlock smiled, a languid curve of his lips. "I _do_ have a request, just a little distraction from you while I take care of some business."

Layla's jaw hardened and her suspicion, now verified, lashed out as anger. "Sherlock, I am not going to be a pawn in the Holmes' chess set ever again."

Despite Layla's snarl, Sherlock's smile stayed in place and he stepped closer. "Of course not." His voice had dropped, the low, smooth tone he used to placate her, and manipulate.

"Damn straight." Layla knew what he was doing, she consciously heard the tone switch. "Either I'm a full time player with full knowledge or no go." She stepped back and felt the pillar behind her. She was stuck, so she crossed her arms over her chest in some form of barrier between her and Sherlock. She audibly gulped as Sherlock took another step towards her and invalidated her arm barrier.

"Now, Layla, you know you're safer and happier when you are informed of only what you _must_ know." His voice was even silkier now, glided around her and seemed to caress her. "All you need do is follow my directions." He pressed against her fully, his left hand pulling her towards him, even closer, by the waist and his right hand on the nape of her neck. The rolling baritone deepened and roughened into his sultriest growl as he looked straight down at her, locking her with his lidded but unblinking blues. "I know you _enjoy_ following my directions."

Layla could feel her head lightening, her body swimming with heat even though the practical side of her brain was still cataloguing the reasons this was a ploy. _His eyes aren't dilated, his pulse is slow and even. He's going through all the right motions but they don't mean a thing._

"Isn't it more fun when there's a hint of mystery?"

Layla blinked away the fuzzing of the edges and recollected her mind. "Sherlock, I don't know. I…" His eyes continued to bore into hers and she felt her will weakening. "I just _hate_ feeling helpless…"

"Oh, you won't be helpless, I'll make sure of that. You know I'd never _risk_ that." His hand slipped around her neck to push her hair from her eyes, switching from the intense smoldering stare to the sweetly soft concerned one, just crinkling around the corners and between the brows.

"But…" Layla swallowed, trying to moisten her magically parched mouth. The Doctor's voice buzzed around in the background of her mind but didn't register. She tried to listen to the words to ground her mind but they just sounded jumbled. Sherlock was too close, smelled too good.

His right hand joined the left, pulling her hips to his. "Layla, please." He even drew out his vowels like he was sincerely pleading. Dipping his head to eye level he whispered, "for me, for _us._"

Layla pulled in a shuddering breath and pressed her palms against Sherlock's chest, trying to create some space, free her brain from her genitals. It didn't work, he was too strong and Layla only managed to notice that his pulse had even elevated.

"Mm." She groaned very quietly and licked her lips, now leaning into Sherlock, his warmth and scent. She hadn't been this near to him in a very long time and the comfort of the feeling completely whited out everything else. Her mouth found his, surprisingly easily and she pulled away to murmur, "yes, fine, yes, Sherlock. Just—"

She gasped as the Doctor's voice spilled into and burst apart their intimate moment. "And here—oh!"

And like that the spell was shattered, Sherlock was gone and Layla was left sweaty and embarrassed. She looked around as the Doctor sputtered out apologies and incoherent noises of surprise. John was exasperated and rolling his eyes, Xander passed out against his shoulder, and Sherlock was completely composed, striding in the opposite direction.

As he passed, Sherlock looked the Doctor over. "Doctor, you seem startled. Something amiss."

The Doctor cleared his throat and ducked his head away from Layla, providing her with some privacy to collect herself. "Well. Tour's over, River!" He grabbed her hand as River smiled knowingly, giving Layla a wink. "Time to—uh—stargaze." The Doctor and River disappeared beyond the edge of the TARDIS's roof lamp's glow with one last glance at Layla.

When Layla finally grounded herself back in reality she jogged after Sherlock, who was fortunately stopped beside John and gathering Xander.

"Sherlock, wait." She shouted, a little more loudly than necessary. "I need to talk to you about what just happened."

John looked between the two and repeated Layla's question. "What did just happen, Sherlock?"

But, Sherlock said nothing. Instead, he continued on his way, stopping only to scoop up his violin. Layla huffed with irritation and brushed past John to continue pursuing Sherlock.

"Layla, what? What is going on?"

"Don't worry about it, John."

"Why does no one see it fit to tell me anything?"

"I just don't want to talk about it." Layla grumbled and waved off John as he started to follow.

"Layla's just testy because she allows her body to think for her instead of her mind." Sherlock jeered from the darkness behind the TARDIS.

Layla shook her head and mumbled just loud enough for John to hear before slipping into the TARDIS, "Sherlock never lets his body do any thinking."

John chuckled cynically and then flopped down on the grass, leaning against one of the pillars. "Great, those two are bickering and the other two are God knows where, doing… well, I don't want to know what and I'm, I'm stuck here, as usual the odd man out. And I'm talking to myself on top of that."

He turned at a movement from the TARDIS. Layla was marching darkly towards him, pack in hand.

"So, what did he seduce you into doing?"

Layla glared at him as she set the duffle onto the ground and squatted down next to it. "Nothing," she growled as she yanked the zip down and pulled out her computer.

"Please, don't be embarrassed. He's ensnared plenty others besides you with that pout, me included…" John cleared his throat and shifted. "…unfortunately. So, out with it."

"Just something dangerous, as usual." Layla sat beside him and typed away. Soon the screen was flashing with windows of government files. She was intent on finding 'The Doctor' or 'Dr. River Song' in any of Mycroft's logs, if she was going to help Sherlock she was going to do it in as well-informed a manner as she can.

"He wants to kill Moriarty." John tipped his chin towards Sherlock who had just reappeared in the light with Xander in his papoose, his violin's discordant staccato notes floating across the empty space.

"Obviously—" Layla snapped before she could stop herself. Breathing in sharply she grimaced at John. "Sorry, yes. He wants to kill Moriarty but the Doctor doesn't, so he wants me to distract him until Sherlock _can_ kill Moriarty." She nodded to the screen. "Hence the research."

John shrugged. "Figures. I think we can get Dr. Song to help us with that. She's on our side of that debate."

"Yeah. I just want to find out a bit more about each of them, no matter what, so I'm not completely in the dark. Too bad even Mycroft's clearance has got squat on them. Where are they, by the way?" She squinted up from the artificial glow of the laptop and into the darkness.

John looked over to the left where he had last seen the Doctor and River heading. "Off somewhere…" He couldn't see them through the darkness. "Stargazing the Doctor said."

Layla sniggered, "River finally got her way then, I guess. Maybe she'll have him convinced for us." She elbowed John and closed the laptop. "Well, while it's relatively quiet I'm going to go ahead and try to snag some sleep. Research is futile anyways."

"Yeah, that might—" John stiffened and then looked at the sky. "—hear that?"

Layla sat up from the pillar and glanced to Sherlock. Xander was safe, so she turned her mind to the noise. "Yeah. Helicopter?"

"Sounds like."

"We've been found." Sherlock appeared beside them, holding out a hand for Layla as John scrambled to his feet.

As Layla gathered up her duffle the Doctor and River jogged back over, both looking frazzled.

"Uh, where've you been?" She asked cheekily. "I thought we were safe—um—recuping or whatever, but not so much…"

"Yes, well, you see, it's a lovely night, and the stars—"

"Stargazing." River smoothly cut off the Doctor, "you know how entrancing it can be, sorry. But it looks like friendly company." She grinned and held out her tablet for everyone to see. Sure enough, the helicopter was a British government registered model.

"Mycroft," Sherlock muttered and stalked back into the darkness. The violin plucking soon resumed, but now with added gusto.

Layla's shoulders sagged, "lovely."

"This should be interesting. Hopefully—and I can't believe I'm about to say this—but hopefully it is Mycroft and not a lackey. This'll be difficult enough as is without having to explain private matters." John crossed his arms and turned his face to the sky.

The helicopter thumped to a landing outside the ring and powered down with a whine. By the time the shadowed figure emerged from the craft everyone was back at ease, Layla lying on her back, trying her hand at stargazing, Sherlock pacing and abusing his violin, John grumbling after a cuppa and the Doctor and River whispering excitedly.

"Layla," Mycroft's unctuous voice announced their visitor, "I'm assuming your well, new mother out and about. So lovely to see you again, not where I would have hoped but… nonetheless." He stepped into the ring of light and surveyed the diverse company. "Ah, Dr. Watson, good evening. How is Ms. Morstan?"

Layla saw Sherlock's head jerk to attention but John responded before he could inquire. "Pleasantries, Mycroft? Really? You just flew across nation to ask after our health and social lives? What's next, the weather?"

Mycroft simpered, "yes." Quickly disregarding John, he turned in a circle, eyes searching. "Ah, Brother! Nice to know you've not changed at all. Stealing my IDs… even once dead." He took a step towards Sherlock's sulking space and shook his head. "Now, where is it?"

"How did you track it all the way here?" Layla piped up behind him.

"Once one loses enough, one starts putting global positional chips in one's IDs." He turned back to Layla and stared aloofly down his nose at her.

"Damn," she muttered and tossed the ID at the elder Holmes. "There."

"Oh!" Mycroft caught the card, a look of pleasant surprise on his face. "Huh, _you_ took it. Fascinating. How is the nephew, then?"

Layla jerked her head towards Sherlock and Mycroft's eyes followed, looking more closely through the gloom. "My, bonding are they? How… sweet." His lips pursed as though his words were absolutely not sweet. "Now then, why are you out here and how—" Mycroft spun on the spot and paused, his eyes falling on the Doctor and River. "—oh… you."

The Doctor grinned exuberantly and started to flounce forward but Mycroft's lip curled and the Doctor faltered at the malice in the expression.

"Is _she_ with you? She was said to be dead, Sherlock assured it but, perhaps if he helped… and _you_ are here… To what do I owe this surprise, Dr. Song?"

The Doctor looked speechlessly between Mycroft and River and then meekly stepped behind her. River, however, acted anything but confused, beginning to play along after only a half-second of sharing the Doctor's confusion.

"Nice to see you too, Mr. Holmes. Sadly, no, _she's_ not here. Just us." She slunk towards Mycroft who stood up a little straighter and leaned away from her hair.

"Yes, very coy, Dr. Song. You know I am not susceptible to your sort of charms, so out with it. Why are you here, and with my brother's rag tag team of misfits at that?"

"Oh, you _know_ me. I like a little adventure."

"River—" The Doctor stepped forward but retreated when River cut a warning eye at him. "Yes, good, okay."

Mycroft, who had followed the entire interaction, rolled his eyes and by stepped River. "And you are?"

Sherlock cackled behind them, "oh, you don't _know_, Mycroft?"

Mycroft pressed his lips tight together but took another step towards the Doctor. "Should I know you?" He asked with a tipped brow.

The Doctor grinned his child-like grin and extended his hand, withdrawing it when Mycroft hardly acknowledged the gesture. "I'm the Doctor… uh, Dr. John Smith."

Mycroft shut his eyes and let his head roll back. "Oh, blast." He sighed. "Fine. I'll call Harkness." He rolled his shoulders as if in repulsion. "Although I'd prefer not to, maybe Dr. Jones instead… but I do loathe handing any iota of authority to UNIT." He shook his head and turned from the Doctor. "Okay, Sherlock. You tell me how— _what_ is going on and why in the name of Elizabeth you are in Orkney of all places."

"Mycroft," Sherlock crooned patronizingly as he strummed the violin. "Didn't you know?"

"Yes, of course. But you are _far_ off track, Sherlock."

"What?!" The strumming ceased and Xander cooed loudly at its silence. "You know where he is?"

"Naturally."

"Well?"

"He's not here, Sherlock."

"Obviously! You know, tell me. Now."

"Now, now, brother. We mustn't let our emotions blind our judgment."

The violin filled the weighted silence, frustrated minor chords plucked in defiance. As the two brothers started each other down, the rest of the mix-matched party exchanged searching glances. They were all of them out of the loop, not sure what Mycroft's game was, besides hinting at Moriarty to bother Sherlock. The Doctor and River muttered a few muted comments but only so much to confirm that River did not in fact know Mycroft.

"I'm not impaired in any way." Sherlock finally replied and everyone else leaned in, waiting to for the situation to be clarified. "Just give me the information, Mycroft, and leave us to it."

"Fine, fine, though he's no threat at the present, recently lost a bevy of underlings _and _Moran's been shot." He seemed amused and not at all concerned.

"Yes, we know. We had a hand in that."

"Of course. Dr. Song… always a vendetta with her. Anyways, I'm surprised you haven't found him on your own." Mycroft met River's eye and left the rest of them staring at her. She just shrugged.

"We. were. getting. there."

"Apparently not. Liverpool's quite a ways from here."

"Liverpool. What does he want in Liverpool—oh the docks." Sherlock ran his free hand through his hair and began pacing quickly. "What is he shipping in?"

"Many things, brother. Many things. I'm unconcerned, however. We know his end game." Mycroft tucked his hands into his pockets and turned back to the helicopter.

"What? What do you know?"

Mycroft paused and glanced back at Sherlock smugly. He was enjoying this. "Brother dear, you've been dead for quite a time, haven't you? It's me. He's trying to get rid of me. He wants the set. With both of us out of the way, Moriarty would have the government at his fingertips and no one clever enough to stop him. It's quite obvious once you think about it."

Sherlock rankled at the jab but kept his voice level. "You know for certain?"

"Indeed. Wire tap two days ago. Currently they're planning an explosion to entrap me and a second to kill me. Almost funny."

"Is it still his plan?"

"As far as I know, although we lost the tap so it may have changed, but either way I'm not worried. They can't touch _me_." Mycroft sniffed haughtily and rolled his shoulder.

"Fine. You have the coordinates?" Sherlock tucked his violin beneath his arm, hitched up Xander and held out his hand.

"You need to ask?"

Sherlock stared coldly at his brother.

"Why do you want them?"

Mycroft was again greeted by silence and the blue glare.

"I'd tell you to be cautious but when have you ever listened to me?" Mycroft reached into his jacket and pulled out a pen and pad, jotting something down quickly. "He was here five hours ago." He ripped off the sheet and set it in Sherlock's waiting palm. "I'll know what you do. Drs. Watson, Song, McManis, Smith." Mycroft bobbed a head back at the silent group. "My lord have we enough doctors here?" He pondered aloud as he strolled back to the helicopter. "'Til next time," he stepped inside and waved a hand, "Grant, call Dr. Jones and file the T-692—" the door slammed shut and the helicopter thrummed to life pulsing alive the otherwise still night.

"Now what?" John was the first to ask the necessary question.

"Sleep." Layla laid back. "We're all going to rest. I don't care, Sherlock." She pointed and effectively shushed Sherlock for once. "You can yammer on all you want but I haven't slept in upwards of two days and I'm not moving from here until the friggin' sun rises."

"I agree." John flopped back on the grass as well.

"An excellent plan! Besides, I've got a time machine!" The Doctor trotted off to the TARDIS while the others, besides Sherlock, bedded down. He soon returned with a load of blankets. "Camping under the stars, my favorite!"


	8. Liverpool

IN WHICH THERE ARE TOO MANY COOKS IN THE KITCHEN

The Doctor peeked out of the TARDIS while the predawn gloom still blanketed the ancient ring. The rest of his company still slept soundly, even Sherlock propped up on the pillar nearest Layla with Xander in papoose snug against his chest. Scrambling around, he prepped a makeshift camp kitchen and set about completing the camping ambience. River stepped out of the TARDIS half way through and shook her head. He was a genius but cooking is a precision game. Ducking back inside, she also began fixing breakfast, just in case the Doctor's attempt ended up being less than savory.

When dawn finally broke, the Doctor had completed his _unique_ concoction of breakfast foods and leapt up and fell to frolicking and collecting the supplies for eating.

"Rise and shine! The sun is up, the stars are asleep, not really. Just being outshone by a closer star, bright, plasma ball of gorgeous hydrogen and helium and nuclear fusion. Don't want to miss that! Time to wakey wakey!" He snatched the blankets from Layla and John, grinning his sickeningly chipper beam. "I even made some tea—I think, sort of—and toast!"

"Blarg." Layla cowered from the intrusion of light and sound on her much needed sleep. John, on the other hand say up blearily but immediately, military man that he was. Even faster than John, Sherlock was already on his feet, having brushed the grass from his trousers, pacing and scowling appropriately. The Doctor snuck a sly look at him, grinning when he caught his eye only to receive Sherlock's un-amused eye roll.

"Oh." John gagged behind Layla and spat the tea he just sipped back into his tin cup. "That's… wow."

"Here," River appeared beside him, trading his cup for another. "Coffee. Sorry, the Doctor spoilt the tea. I'm brewing another pot now. And some eggs." River passed a tray of steaming eggs to John and collected a plate of incinerated bread. "Toast is burnt."

The Doctor shrugged and trotted back inside with River while John and Layla set to River's contribution to breakfast. Layla had just fixed her cup, milk and sugar, perfectly warm, when Sherlock swooped in, trading the cup for Xander.

Layla watched with pouting lips as the coffee soared away. She was still exhausted and in desperate need of caffeine. "Sherlock—" She hitched up Xander, reaching for the coffee again.

"Isn't it a bit soon for you to have caffeine? Come on. He's hungry." Sherlock helped Layla up and began pulling her away to provide some privacy while she nursed. Layla fished a nursing blanket from her pack and stuffed a fork-full of egg into her mouth before allowing Sherlock to guide her aside.

Layla adjusted Xander in her arms and spread out the nursing blanket. "Good morning, little man, did you have a nice sleep with Daddy?" She kissed the top of his head and then stared covetously at Sherlock as he sipped her perfect coffee beside her.

"Stop gawking, it's better for you both this way." Sherlock glanced around and then cut his eye back to Layla. "I'll get you some decaffeinated tea when Dr. Song is finished with this pot."

"Fine." Layla rolled her eyes and relaxed into the feeding routine. "Can I get some food, I'm may be a calorie machine, but even so I require some fuel—"

"No. Just listen. I've decided how I want to approach the issue we discussed last night." Sherlock took another swig from Layla's coffee and then glared at it, "so much sugar."

"Nothing is good enough for you, Sherlock, not enough sugar, too much sugar. Urgh, can we not do this right now, Sherlock? Any of it. You didn't even bring me over here for privacy, at least not mine." Layla slumped back and cracked her neck. "Besides, I can't concentrate, the sun's barely risen, I'm hungry and sleepy, and you hate histrionics. This can wait 'til I've eaten and so has Xander."

"No, it cannot." Sherlock leaned nearer to the chatter of the Doctor and John behind them, listening briefly. "I know you've told John about it. That's not a problem, in fact, we need his help as well. It is just the Doctor whom we need to keep uninformed, which seems to be more difficult than I would have liked or expected." He swatted away Layla's second attempt to retrieve the coffee.

"Hey, if you don't like it…" Sherlock blinked blankly back at her. "I'm more cooperative with higher blood sugar." He snorted and slipped away, coming back from the rest with fresh toast and eggs and even a cup of tea. "Thank you."

Layla tucked in immediately, sighing over the warmth of tea and hot food. Sherlock nodded shortly, acknowledging her thanks.

"Yes, well, this is what you must keep in mind: John, Dr. Song and I all have weapons, you and the Doctor alone are unarmed. Thus, I need you to keep him occupied while the rest of us fan out and find Moriarty. Do whatever you can to make sure his hands are busy elsewhere than 'saving' Moriarty. This will also keep you and Xander out of gun range. I'll tell John, Dr. Song seems to disregard everything the Doctor says, so I doubt she'll be a problem. Do anything, play ill, create a problem." Sherlock stood and peered again around the pillar.

Layla shoveled the last bite of food away and nodded to Sherlock. "Yeah, whatever you want, Sherlock. Take this while I burp him." She handed the plate to Sherlock and then shifted Xander to her shoulder.

Sherlock slipped away, plate in hand and left Layla to relax with Xander, finally.

"John, do you have your field kit on you?" He set the dish beside John's.

John responded around his mouthful. "Oh, yeah… uh… Layla okay?" John opened his jacket and showed Sherlock his pistol.

Sherlock nodded minutely, "no, Layla is fine. I just want to be ready."

"Oh, well, Dr. Song is exceptionally field ready." John finally chocked down his bite and nodded to River. She quirked an eyebrow, keen to their lingo and patted her gun.

"Doctors, doctors everywhere and not a wound to mend." The Doctor chuckled and threw back the rest of his tea. "Love a paradox—except not really. Paradox bad, paradox makes all kinds of problems, but not irony. I enjoy irony, doctors without patients."

"And were glad for that, Doctor. Although no thanks to you." River chimed in, curbing the Doctor's tittering.

"Uh, yes. But I knew you could take care of yourself. You always do, River. Uh, anymore tea anyone? Coffee… maybe?" The Doctor gulped and edged away from River's accusing stare.

Sherlock stood as Layla padded back over. "No, we're all finished here. Time to pursue Moriarty."

Layla groaned and threw her head back in consternation. No rest for her, ever. "Can't we just—"

"We waited until the sun rose, per your demand." Sherlock snapped, Layla narrowed her eyes at him and stomped to the TARDIS, no point listening to him bark orders at people. "The coordinates, Doctor." He handed Mycroft's slip of paper to the Doctor.

"Yes, good, Sherlock. Can we discuss the little matter of—"

"I think we both know the answer to that question, Doctor. A stalemate's a stalemate."

The Doctor's face darkened after his obliging smile, watching Sherlock walk away from the corner of his eye. Layla took note, watching the interaction from the TARDIS entrance, despite herself.

"Uh, Sherlock, I don't think the Doctor is going to let this go that easily," she hissed at him as he slid passed her and inside. Sherlock paused and followed Layla's eye to the Doctor watching the two of them as he feigned at cleaning up the camp site.

"I am aware, but he's too clever to believe that I have simply given up, so that admission is useless, a waste of energy to lie about." Sherlock barely whispered, and then disappeared into the blue box.

"Whatever. Come on Xander, back to hunting the man responsible for ruining Mommy's life."

The Doctor followed the interaction very closely from the campsite, then quick as the flip of a coin grinned bright and boisterous again, waving River and John into the TARDIS. "Okay, everything together out here, in we go, time to visit Liverpool! Exciting, really. Haven't been there since 1962, the Beatles and Little Richard in the Cavern. What a show! So, what do you think, Sherlock? Last night at 6?" He paused on the steps of the console and looked cheerfully at Sherlock, all ire forgotten.

"Just the time I was thinking, Doctor." Sherlock nodded but didn't look up from helping Layla to strap Xander in.

Layla, confused by his cooperation, met Sherlock's eye with a question and he held it, acknowledging but not responding. "What? _Now_ you're going to play nice?" She whispered into Sherlock's hair as he bent down.

Sherlock tightened the strap around her waist and growled quietly, "yes. He's dangerous as well."

Layla blinked incredulously at Sherlock.

"Layla, if you haven't figured that out yet, I've severely overestimated you." He snarled up at her, back at normal volume and full of disdain.

"Okay, okay." Layla stepped away with her hands held in front of her conceding. She was still too tired to bicker.

"Everything alright?" The Doctor leaned around the console.

"Yeah, just some domestic disagreement." John waved at Sherlock and Layla from the bench. "I wouldn't worry about it, the two of them are always at it, squabbling.

The Doctor straightened his bowtie. "Oh, I don't know, I'm awful clever, lived a while, can fix _almost_ everything."

"No, just, uh, no." John reached out, stopping the Doctor and River soon joined him.

"Not this one, my love, lovers' quarrels are private."

"It's not a problem, guys, see?" Layla pushed between them all with a grin as Sherlock started up on a sweeping concerto. "I—uh—just need some time… apart from Prince Charming over there." She stopped next to the Doctor and River. "And he _does not_ like you." She looked apologetically up at the Doctor. "So, mind if I stick around over here?"

"You are always welcome, lovely Layla." The Doctor patted Layla's shoulder and then turned back to the console, flipping a switch.

"Thanks, Doctor, plus… guns and babies." Layla frowned theatrically and the Doctor responded with his large smile.

"I totally agree." The TARDIS banged into a landing and the Doctor loped to the door. "Okay gang, it's 6:11 pm yesterday, dock master's quarters." He peeked out the door and then threw it wide. "Not as fun as the Cavern but I try not to judge. Who knows what's waiting for us."

River, John and Sherlock piled out the door but Layla tugged on the Doctor's sleeve, holding him back. "Uh, Doctor, speaking of, is there… uh, anyway, or anywhere in here I could crib Xander? I was serious about not having him around guns." Layla watched until everyone was clear of the TARDIS and then looked to the Doctor for an answer.

"Ah, Layla dear, I wouldn't worry." He twirled a number of sets of handcuffs around his fingers. "There won't be any use of guns today." He clumsily stuffed the cuffs into the coat and then winked down at Layla. "Little Xander hasn't any reason to worry."

"Yeah, on our end, maybe. But what about—"

"Uh, Doctor?" River's urgent whisper sounded from the doorway. "I think you need to see this."

Layla and the Doctor darted out the door and stumbled onto a heated, although hushed, argument. The two of them lingered on the edge with River hovering even further behind them, assessing the situation. In the center stood two women, both unquestionably familiar and chatting. Around them, John and Sherlock were snapping at each other.

"What happened to being beheaded?"

"I ensured that she wasn't. That's not a problem."

"Not a problem, _no_. Of course not, just lying to keep a certified criminal on the loose." John rolled his head, words dripping with sarcasm.

"You said she was in witness protection, I was lying just as you did, each making the other happy." Sherlock shrugged and John narrowed his eyes.

"I was lying to protect your feelings, you were lying to protect her. That's different—this" he pointed between the women, "was what Mycroft was talking about. You're the her."

"I don't know what you're talking about Dr. Watson. I haven't seen Mycroft in _ages_."

"Oh, enough lying, Irene, Sherlock, everyone!" John snapped. "Now, how are you, Dr. Song, even possible?"

A younger, markedly more lascivious River slunk closer to John, "oh, child of the TARDIS, I'm nine different kinds of impossible. Shall I show you, Dr. Watson?"

"Oh, no you don't! I don't want anything to do with either of these women." John turned to Sherlock and stuck a finger in Irene's face. "_She's_ been enough trouble already. We shouldn't be involved with her at all, let's not even talk about this one, I mean, what in the world?!"

The younger River bit her lip and tugged on John's lapel. "Oh come on, I don't know you, you don't know me. I'm just out on a girl's night to have fun, if you're not going to play along, you should just run along."

Sherlock stepped between River and John and glared down at her. "We're here for a delicate operation. I think it's best if _you_ run along."

River fluttered her eyebrows and turned back to Irene. "Ooo, Renie, I like this one. Is this the famous Sherlock Holmes?"

"Yes, River, that's Sherlock. I'm assuming he's here to kill Moriarty as well." Irene tilted her head to the other side and locked eyes with Sherlock.

"Wait." John and Sherlock both snapped towards Irene. "Why do you two want to kill Moriarty?"

"Fun!" River pulled her pistol from its holster and swung her arm around Irene's shoulder. "A little public service on a night out."

"A night out? With a known criminal?" John was still snarling because of Irene.

"You don't know _me_, do you?" River fluffed her hair and then fluttered her lashes.

"You're a criminal as well." John shook his head with exasperation. "Naturally. Where's the Doctor?" John turned around to find him but River answered, distracting and confusing John.

"Oh, he's around, but not here. He picked me up from Storm Cage for the night but other things came up so he left me here to make friends. I chose Irene Adler and killing James Moriarty. Totally my cup of tea."

Sherlock turned to Irene, "and _you_ believed her?"

"What's not to believe? Plus I saw that box. What an interesting box."

"Yeah, it's fantastic, isn't it?" River holstered her gun again but then turned a more serious face onto John and Sherlock. "What're you two doing her though, really? Dr. Watson, from what I read, isn't there some woman you should be entertaining? And you too, Sherlock. What's her name again, Renie?"

"Layla." Irene accentuated the vowels and continued holding Sherlock's glare.

"Right, Layla. I bet she'd like to see you, Sherlock."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose at Irene and then turned to John. "Is M Morstan this woman?"

"Oops!" River chimed. "Spoilers! Hey!" She was gazing over John's shoulder wide eyed and verging on impetuous. "You said twenty-four hours. I have plans." She pointed to Irene as the Doctor and Layla stepped into the dock light's glow.

"Layla," Irene smirked, "you look… matronly."

River stepped up to Layla and the baby and then smiled warmly up at them, quite unlike her former façade. "Oh! This is Layla, and a little one. Not what I—" she paused yet again as she looked up, the older River stepping up behind them.

The younger River whipped to the Doctor. "You're not _my_ Doctor. You're…" she peered hard into his face, "you're old."

Meanwhile, it was Layla's turn to look smug as Irene practically gawked between the two Rivers. "Okay then, this is not my scene anymore." She smoothed out the skirt of her dress and turned to walk away. "Irene is leaving."

"Oh, no you don't." Sherlock managed to look bored as John held a gun up to Irene's back. "No, Ms. Adler, I think you can help us."

Irene, regaining her composure, curled her lip. "I'm not doing anything around you, Sherlock. You attract trouble and normally I'm all for that, but right now I'm on a strictly trouble-free diet. Prices on my head and all. Dr. Watson, I'll leave you to it or no— I'm sorry— _Layla_, I'll leave Layla to it."

"No…" Sherlock waved aside both John and Layla's twin rankles. "We can _use_ you. You know Moriarty, he knows you. So, you can go in first. Plus, you're a good liar and knowing you, you'd hate going home without a big finish."

Irene sneered again, licked her teeth then her lip. But before she could respond, John interjected.

"No, I don't trust her, let's just lock her up in the TARDIS and drop her off somewhere when we're done."

The younger River, recovered from the shock of her doppelganger and lover aged several hundred years, stepped back into the conversation. "Uh, no, Mr. Holmes, sorry. Irene and I are still going on with our girl's night, but on our own. I'm having my night, and she's getting her… _big finish_. That means killing Moriarty our way, so old Doctor and old me can just scuttle along and we two will take care of this public menace for you."

The Doctor leaned in, "sorry, River. You're young and spunky and I like you, trust me—oof." Older River elbowed him. "But you know the rules, no killing."

Younger River set her fists on her hips. "Uh uh uh. You said I could do what I wanted tonight, a full twenty four hours."

"Did I?"

"Yup. I mean you were in a hurry to get rid of me but I don't think that rule would be skipped unless you let it be. It is one of your favorites."

The Doctor frowned, "I don't think so, that doesn't sound like me—"

"As much as I'm enjoying this host of love triangle intrigues and temporal misunderstandings, I'm going to have to wreck the party." Older River stepped between.

"What is it, uh, River?" The Doctor twitched between two bristling Rivers, both with hair that seemed to expand with the tension.

"Oh, did no one else see the absurdly nice _yacht_ leaving port?" She pointed to the harbor mouth and received a concert of imprecations. As the rest of them watched the wake ebb off, Sherlock darted into the port office, stalking back almost immediately with a scowl.

"He's gone. It's empty, stripped."

Irene's eyebrows shot to her hairline, "no, Moriarty doesn't just strip a base and leave. The base never existed." She turned and everyone sprinted with her into the TARDIS, cowering when they felt the port explode a few seconds later.

As everyone panted, recovering from the dash, John spoke up, once again the one to ask the practical question. "How did you even know about Moriarty anyway?"

The younger River sat back on her heels and wiped her ringlets out of her face. "Well then, everyone gather 'round. It's story time."

**A/N: This story was designed to be ten chapters long with an epilogue afterwards, like ten different scenes in a Doctor Who episode, so there are only two and a half chapters after this. This story has been a labor of love, completely outside my normal genre and requiring me to juggle ****_way_**** more characters than I'm used to and in depth and thus outside my comfort zone. All that being said, I hope my few loyal readers have enjoyed it, it's been an interesting experience to say the least. Cheers!**


	9. The Past

IN WHICH THERE IS A FLASHBACK

"Once upon a time, on a very unfortunate day, I killed the man I loved and was placed in a top security prison, but not really. I only aided in his faked death so that he might save himself and his loved ones from his enemies' unending and all-encompassing wrath."

River sat, sprawled out on the TARDIS floor, grinning at each listening face and saturating each word with its own expression.

"Sound familiar?" A look to Sherlock. "But to my delight, that very night, the man I had apparently murdered popped in for a visit, chattering about taking me out to play. I was hesitant, at the time I was still very fresh, just out of school and used to being a _good_ girl. I didn't want the reputation of murderess who escapes on top of that. But when you travel with the Doctor reputation matters little.

"So, I climbed inside his blue box and we jetted off, fun and frolicking. Except I was pouting, not much in the mood. Then the Doctor gave me a hum and promised he's make all this up to me. This wasn't his first rodeo, he said. I laughed and asked him what he meant. That was the first time I saw the Doctor properly sad.

"He said he'd been around enough, seen his fair share of faked deaths and how they turned out. Even been a part of one. By this point, I was beyond curious and kept him from changing the topic. I asked who he meant, if it was someone I knew of. And that's where the story really begins."

_The TARDIS thumps to a still, brakes grinding in the tell-tale swoosh and creak. It's the same ole girl, still sexy, just a little less orange and a little more coral-y. The Doctor bustles around the console, manic as usual. He's the same ole Doctor, same man, different face among other things. A little taller and thinner, with a taste for suits and Converse instead of tweed and bow ties, but still the Doctor, old and brilliant and eternally lonely. Except this time, he's really alone._

_"Time to visit an old friend- weeeeell, a new friend." He slips into his brown overcoat, the one Janis Joplin gave him, rubber trainers thudding lightly on the grating as he darts from the coat rack._

_"I expect he'll be an old friend soon enough. Been meaning to introduce myself, as clever as he is I'm sure we'll be the best of mates quick as that-" he snaps and then stills, a great gulp of a breath stuck in his throat as he scans the empty TARDIS "- I need a mate." The bravado and excited energy drains as the Doctor stuffs his hands into his pockets, sniffs._

_"Well, time to go, time's a-wasting. _I_ wasted the time." He clears his throat and looks up, searching for something, or nothing in the heights of the control room._

_"Sorry, Donna. You would have loved this." Another deep breath._

_"Well! Sherlock Holmes versus James Moriarty. The intellectual duel of the century, and here's the front row seat- oh! popcorn! Need the popcorn!" He darts away from the door, retrieves a bag from beneath the console and sprints back, exiting the TARDIS in full stride. _

_He skids to a halt on the second floor balcony of an empty swimming pool complex. Empty, the place is empty. No legendary showdown of wits, no standstill broken only by the Bee Gees?_

_"What? No 'Staying Alive'? That's a shame..." He purses his lips and leans over the railing. "I've missed it." He thumps the TARDIS with a trainer toe. "Gone and brought me in late. What good are you?"_

_He peers around again, tapping the roof of his mouth with his tongue. "Well... no harm in looking around a bit. Maybe I'll bump into 'em." He shrugs and jogs around the balcony to the exit._

_"Maybe I'll get some chips while I'm here," the Doctor mumbles to himself as he skips down the stairs and out the side exit, "not been in London-oof, sorry, mate!" He barrels straight into another man, shorter, flipping through a notebook and heading inside the swimming complex._

_"Yeah, no worries." The man replies an insincere smile and a nod later._

_"Oooo. That's a nice notebook, love a good Moleskine. You know, I gave Hemingway his, a great grump of a man, him." The Doctor nodded at the small, richly bound book in the man's hand._

_"Cheers, mate." He widened his eyes with another forced smile and tried to edge past the Doctor._

_"Say, I haven't seen formulae like that in a while." The Doctor leans over the man's shoulder and points at his jottings. "You a mathematician, then?"_

_"Something like." A truer smile this time but simultaneously more disturbing._

_"Oh, well..." The Doctor frowns and points at a page, "you know, that there, that's not right. Is it?"_

_The other man snatches away the book, glares at the page and scratches a few things out, no longer smiling._

_"Huh, you look familiar..." The Doctor, pulling out his glasses, leans down into the man's face. "Do I know you?"_

_"No," the other says softly, leaning away from the Doctor and shifting on the spot._

_"I don't know... you certainly seem familiar. Are you sure I haven't run into you before? I don't always look like this, I've been shorter, and taller, one time I had a really long scarf, or maybe you'll remember the celery, here." He points to his lapel._

_The other man grins with some secret amusement and looks up at the Doctor under his brow. "Maybe at the University."_

_"Yes, maybe the University. What do you do there? Student? Teacher's aid?"_

_"Something like."_

_"Yeah, well, that," the Doctor points to the notebook, "isn't schoolwork."_

_"Is it not?"_

_"No!" The Doctor crosses his arms. "I mean, you're clever, I'll give you that, encoding to look like solutions but that's pretty clearly a plan for a bomb." He knits his brow and nods when the other curls his lip. "Sure is and we can't have that, now can we?" The Doctor snatches the notebook up and flips quickly through it. "Oh, silly me, of course it's you!" He thumps the notebook back into the man's waiting palm, the man now sneering maliciously._

_"You think you know me?"_

_"Of course I know you, you're Moriarty." The Doctor lifts a stern eyebrow and stares the other down._

_"And you are?" Moriarty rolls his head in unconcealed disdain as he asks._

_"Me? I'm the Doctor-well- they call me John Smith here."_

_"John Smith, is that a nom de guerre?" Moriarty steps up to the Doctor, sizing him up._

_"Something like that," the eyebrow rises a little higher, "they don't really know who I am."_

_"So, the Doctor is your actual name?" Moriarty's eyes stare unblinkingly up at the Doctor, his interest unquestionable._

_"No," the Doctor returns the stare, "they can't know my real name."_

_Moriarty chuckles, making a note in his little black book, "pseudonym after pseudonym. Sounds fun."_

_"Yeah, yeah," the Doctor frowns, disliking Moriarty's mounting amusement, "enough of this. You know all about it, _Rich Brook_, so which bomb is this?" He sweeps back up the notebook and stares at the pages one by one._

_"I don't know what you mean." Another leer._

_"Oh, come on, don't play coy, you're meant to be proud of this. Which is it? One for our Reichenbach hero, I suppose." The Doctor looks over his glasses rims down at Moriarty. "You know, Sherlock, the one you personally victimize, you're his fan. You're going to make me spell it out?"_

_Moriarty's smile widens and the Doctor rolls his eyes. "Now you're a quiet one, eh? Makes sense, I suppose, lying like a snake in wait, plotting and with this." He waves the notebook which Moriarty carefully extracts as the Doctor rambles on. "You really are very clever, such a waste of a bright mind. All that power and logic and what do you do, you plan bombs, kidnap children and attack the one man who could be your intellectual equal. I don't understand it, I'm like you, way too clever for my own good, but I don't try to eradicate my peers. That makes for a lonely life-trust me- and blokes like us are lonely enough as it is. Not much point being the king if no one can understand your dominion and appreciate it for what it is. That's why I like a companion, I'm on my own now, drives a man batty, that's why I'm here, one genius looking for other... geniuses..." The Doctor looks down to where Moriarty had been standing moments before and finds the space empty._

_"Oh... stupid Doctor, blathering, stupid, old Doctor. Ah! This head so full of 'being brilliant' it let the demented psychopath slither off!" The Doctor spins on the spot, searching passing pedestrians but Moriarty is no where to be found. _

_"Wait!" He stills, eyes wide. "Ah! No! Stupid, old, ah!" He whips out his sonic screwdriver and whirs around with it, grimacing at the read out._

_"No, no, no, no, no, no!" He darts to the swimming complex and licks the wall. "Ick, 2009, dull year." He sticks out his tongue and smacks it in distaste. "Oh... 2009... two thousand _nine_, ah no." He sprints inside, up the stairs and around the balcony to his TARDIS, hurtling inside._

_"You didn't get me here late! You were early, early for once and at this moment of all times!" He punches at his monitor, running his hands frantically through his hair as the readings flash-out, circling and swirling._

_"Ah! And now the time line's changing. Oh, it's me. I did it." A look of pain flashes across his face. "This is why I shouldn't travel alone! Always putting my foot in my mouth, bad foot, bad mouth! Moriarty with my foreknowledge! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" He tumbles over the console pulling levers and pushing buttons. "Donna, why couldn't you be here to stop me, or Martha or Rose or Sarah Jane! Even dolting Mickey could have pointed that fub out- well- maybe not. Ah, can't fix it, but maybe I can lessen the consequences."_

_He hops back in front of the monitor. "There, get it right this time. 2011." He kicks the console and, tucking his glasses back in his coat, leaps to the door to peek his head out._

_"'Ello? Dr. Watson?" He looks around the warm and cluttered sitting room, finally laying eyes on a gawking, flabbergasted John. "Ah, there you are. Sorry to pop in on you like this." The Doctor steps out of the TARDIS and looks around the room, pacing as he speaks. He clicks his tongue and turns back to John, John who sits completely still, laptop open but forgotten on his knees and forehead knitted completely. _

_"Yeah, you're right to be startled, big blue box materializing next to your fireplace, I'd be properly flummoxed." The Doctor raises an eyebrow and sniffs. "Anyway, I should introduce myself, I'm the Doctor, Dr. John Smith, that is."_

_John sluggishly shakes the Doctor's extended hand. _

_"Unfortunately, I'm not just here for a social call, not anymore. I mucked some things up and here we are. Where's Sherlock, eh? Oh, he's out, isn't he?"_

_John nods with the Doctor._

_"That's fine, that's good, necessary really. Okay, listen, I can't tell you much, timelines and stuff confusing history..."_

_John stares blankly at him. The Doctor scrunches his lips and looks sadly at John._

_"It's wibbly. Can't explain. All I can say, Dr. Watson, is you've got to _believe_ in Sherlock. Whatever happens, whatever you think you see, just _believe _in Sherlock."_ _The Doctor holds eye contact with John for a few moments longer, assuring the bewildered man had processed what was said, then sniffs the air. "Oh, time's up. _Believe_ in Sherlock," he turns back to the open TARDIS glowing out light and exposing its unfathomable insides, "oh," he pauses on the threshold, fishing around in his coat for a second or two, "and here," he pulls out a blue rubber ball, "you'll be needing this." He bounces the ball to John, shutting the TARDIS door behind him and completely disappearing before the ball reaches John's hand._

"So, the Doctor went back to see you," younger River pointed to John, as surprised as his story-time counterpart, "to make up for the slip-up since he couldn't cross his own timeline or interfere in the event itself." River nodded and the Doctor sighed heavily in the background.

"Pompeii all over again."

"Yeah, something like that." River grinned, "except the opposite, less deaths here. One not-death in particular which interested me, and I thought maybe I could help out after the event horizon faded. So, I read up in my history books and the fantastic online records, thanks to _your_," she looks to Sherlock," glorious brother and found Moriarty was here at this time and I decided to end him. That was until you spoilt it." She pouted with the last words.

"Ah, yes, well lovely story. Good development and retention of authorial voice," the Doctor leapt up and ushered younger River and Irene towards the door. "But, time to go, story-time's over, you've got appointments, I'm sure. Uh- Mycroft will be interested as to why you're at the scene of a massive explosion! Out! Out!" He shoved the ladies out the door and collapsed into it.

"Paradox." He shrugged. "Couldn't have that. She was getting cranky." He thumbs at the TARDIS console. "You don't want to see her cranky, plus! we've got a deranged criminal enabled by yours truly to find!"

"Maybe you've revised your decision on the solution to this problem, what with you being the nexus." Sherlock drolled.

The Doctor straightened his bowtie and shifted uncomfortably, turning instead to the monitor screen. "Ah, there he is, Blackpool! And we're off!"


	10. Blackpool

IN WHICH EVERYONE'S EXPECTATIONS ARE CONFOUNDED

"I hear you old girl, I hear you."

The TARDIS creaked and groaned as the Doctor set about landing her. He spun around her console and tapped and pulled, making an effort to put her down slowly this time. He wanted time to call a group meeting so that their next excursion would not become such a willy nilly ruckus of not getting things done.

"Okay, everyone! Let's take a vote before we make a move, yes? No piling out and making a mess this time." He pulled a final lever and set the TARDIS down with a boom.

"What do you think?" He shuffled once more around the center just to find the door swinging shut, no one left inside. "Blast."

"I don't think they heard you, love." River patted his hand apologetically.

"Or didn't care to listen."

She patted again and then tugged until he followed begrudgingly down the stairs. "Let's catch up, shall we?"

The scene outside did little to help the two travelers 'catch up.'

"School corridors…" River purred. "If we weren't in a hurry, I'd suggest a bit of teacher student hide and seek."

The Doctor cleared his throat and pulled out his sonic screwdriver, sniffing the air and looking anywhere but at River, her impish smile or her… her anything else. "I think they're in the cafeteria."

Setting the pace, the Doctor bolted down the corridor, turning as his senses led him, running and running with River on his heels until the two of them barreled into the doorway of the sought-after room. It was huge, sterile and mostly empty. Empty enough to echo ominously with the few voices inside.

The Doctor held out his arm to keep River from shoving her way inside and shattering the delicate situation. On the top of a table stood Moran, the Doctor knew him from his face though he'd never met him. Some people just had a face to match their reputation, unlike Moriarty. If only Moriarty had had that sort of face. Moran held his army issue sniper rifle propped against his shoulder, pointed directly at John and Layla, huddled together in the center of the room, John edging his way in front of Layla, while Sherlock snarled half the room away. Moran had them stuck. Sherlock wouldn't risk those two, never those two. He'd die first, he had.

River shivered in anger, and reached for her pistol, taking aim but failing. Moran was in sight, but not in shot while River was still under cover. She would have to step out of the doorway and into range to shoot Moran. That both irked and relieved the Doctor, as did the fact that Moriarty was nowhere in sight.

"Uh, uh, uh. Stay where you are, all of you, or the woman pays for it," Moran sneered from his vantage point, shaking a finger at River's futile attempt.

The Doctor shook his head, pled with one look for River to stop. She was having none of that.

"This is ridiculous," she snapped and cocked her gun.

She fired off two shots for Moran's single, the second knocking the already teetering sniper onto the ground.

"LAYLA." John dropped to his knees as he caught Layla in her slump. Sherlock followed suit, nearly roaring as he ran forward, only to sprint past the two of them and then Doctor and River, disappearing down the hallway.

The Doctor shouted, "John! How is she?" He could hear Layla breathing heavily even as he jogged to Moran.

"He missed the vital organs. Looks like he fired through the soft tissue of her left shoulder, he was clearly aiming for her heart, and would have hit it had Dr. Song not ruined his shot." John's voice fell out clinical but shaking.

The Doctor nodded in relief and held his finger beneath Moran's nose. No breath. "He's dead!" He stood abruptly, forcefully. Roared, "River!"

She was beside Layla, kneeling with John. When she spoke, her voice was silky sweet and calm. She knew she had done right and the Doctor was just having a tantrum about the killing. "I saved her life, sweetie." She held the Doctor's eye and then leaned over Layla. "Layla. Layla, where is Xander?"

The Doctor's left heart skipped, he hadn't even noticed the baby's absence. No wonder Sherlock's response. He jogged over and scanned Layla with his screwdriver. She was in shock, her eyes darting from John to River to him in over-quick succession.

"Layla? Where is Xander?" He scanned her again, reaching down to her temples to possibly read her mind, but she slapped him away, awareness suddenly relit in her eyes.

"I'm fine! I'm fine, I swear. I…" she struggled upright as John pressed his jacket to her shoulder. "I left," a sob shuddered through her, "I LEFT him in the classroom when Sherlock ran out. I forgot about him!" Hysteria gripped her and her voice reached pitches that hurt even the Doctor's ears. "I scolded Sherlock for that very thing, then I DID IT! I LEFT HIM! I left him." Her eyes bulged and though her voice quieted she didn't calm at all, struggling to her feet, pushing away John's help and continuing to bleed everywhere.

River caught her about the waist and reapplied John's jacket, cinching it secure as she comforted her. "We'll find him, Layla. Don't worry, we'll find him." She left Layla in John's arms again and led the Doctor away. "Come on, sweetie. I think I know which classroom she was talking about."

And with that the Doctor and River sprinted from the room, leaving Layla to continue freaking out with John, the poor man, trying to mend her shoulder.

"John. John. Just let me go, please. I need to go, I need to GO." She struggled against his gentle urging to sit down, lie back.

"Layla, stop. You must calm down, your blood pressure—"

"I don't give a damn about my blood pressure! My son!" She flopped onto the floor and sobbed again while John cleaned the wound. At least it was a smooth shot, all the way through, no ripping, just slicing. She'd need physical therapy for about a month but not much else.

"Layla, you're lucky. This is a clean shot, you'll be fine with rest, but for now that's it. You need to rest."

"No." She winced as he pulled up her shirt over the makeshift bandage. "No. I left Xander and they're not back yet. We have to look."

With a strength John would only have expected out of a panicked mother, Layla shoved him away and darted from the door to start searching. John hit the floor hard, giving his old shoulder wound a twinge, and by the time he gained his feet again Layla was long gone. More than that, his gun was also missing.

"Damn it, Layla," he swore with no one in particular to hear it and jogged out the door after her.

He wasn't sure which way she headed, so he took a left and sprinted back to where he'd last seen the TARDIS. As he bound down the final hall, he collided head on with Sherlock, sending both of them sprawling.

"Damn it!" John hit the ground with a bounce, his tail bone screaming.

"You don't have her!" Sherlock fumbled to his feet again and glowered down at John. "She was shot for God's sake, John!"

"For fuck's sake, Sherlock," John's slower to his feet, still smarting from the last fall. "I'm not her keeper, or her boyfriend! You're the one who should have stayed with her when she was shot!"

"You're a doctor!" Sherlock's nose flared, rage peeking as he shouted.

"I did what I could, but she took off! Someone's stolen my pistol, also. Probably her."

Sherlock exhaled loudly and dashed off, John now trailing him with difficulty. "She was shot, John."

"She was looking for her baby!"

Meanwhile, in a parallel hall, the Doctor and River ran a similarly futile search, shouting at one another as they opened every door and checked inside.

"This is a terrible maze of a school! Where are we, River?!" The Doctor spun away from yet another empty room, soniced the next one.

"The sciences wing, I expect." River slammed open the one across the hall, moved onto the next with a shake of her head. "Empty. Still empty. If we were Layla, where would we look for our stolen baby?"

The Doctor grimaced, kept his head ducked safely inside another classroom. "Everywhere. I know a bit about stolen babies."

"Oh, don't fret," River swung past him, giving him a pat on the bum and a peck on the cheek, "I turned out fine." She opened the next and last door. "Maybe in the administrative corridor?"

The Doctor and River ran on, on towards the offices and storage cupboards of the administrative wing while Layla stormed into the headmaster's office and right onto Moriarty's lap, figuratively. She stuttered to a stop in shock as she took in the sight of James Moriarty, criminal mastermind and ruthless genius, swaddling her child.

He lifted Xander up into his arms sat back on the table. "Took you long enough."

The shock wore off and Layla lunged for him, ready to rip his face off with her fingernails to get her baby back, but when Moriarty edged back, a look of disgust on his face, she stumbled again.

"Good god, woman, please be careful. This suit is worth more than your life, we can't have you bleeding on it." Even once the surprise faded again, she kept still. There was a certified psychopath holding her baby and he was concerned about her bleeding on his clothing.

"Handsome lad we have here. _So_ like his father—" his voice was sing song, his expression overly animated as he paused, acting surprised, "—oh, speaking of, it sounds like we have company. Perhaps you should…" he sneered slimy sweet and nodded to the corner behind him, "be back there." His unblinking eyes folloedw her to the corner then turned to an incredibly expensive baby bumper.

The bumper wasn't Layla's. She'd never seen it before. And yet, here it was, her baby was in it and Moriarty was standing over it looking smug. For some reason, it all drove her to panic. What could he want with a baby? Why would he be ready to secure a baby, here in an abandoned primary school? Mycroft had mentioned killing the pair, making it a set maybe? Maybe he would kill the son like the heroes of old, no son, no legacy—

While Layla panicked, Sherlock and John sprinted into the room, followed soon after by the Doctor and River. All four of them now stood on the threshold, gawking at the scene.

"I was wondering how long it would take super mum to come after me for killing daddy," Moriarty's voice was leering, triumphant, "I just didn't expect her to bring a task force or the dead man himself. And then, beat them all to me!" His head rolled to look back at Layla, then he paced towards the other group, fiddling with a baby pacifier.

As he paced, completely assured in his victory, Layla inched from her corner and unstrapped Xander, cradling him to her chest with a silent sob. Moriarty turned to her again, disregarded her hold on the child and continued taunting. All eyes were trained on him, he was in control.

"You really must be a magical woman, taming Sherlock and bringing him back to life, then summoning the enigmatic doctor and Melody of all people. Im—pres—sive." He accentuated each syllable, reveling in the expressions before him.

"Nice to see you, by the way Melody Pond, or is it River Song now? Uh, uh, uh—" He wagged a single admonishing finger as they all stepped towards him and River drew a gun. "—Please, just because Moran was an idiot, does not mean that _I'm_ unprepared. You do know how I love explosives." He smiled that reptilian, wicked sneer, held his fingers ready to snap a sign.

"Now, as I was saying, where's your girlfriend, Mels? I have something for her—" A shot ripped through the room, popping louder than Moriarty's voice and causing everyone to duck.

Layla watched them look back up, watched them gape as Moriarty crumpled to the ground, watched as the Doctor and John dipped to check his pulse and inspect the wound, watched as Sherlock dug his finger into the wall a foot above his head and extracted a single round, watched as they shouted silent things at one another, their mouths moving but nothing coming out. All she could hear was the shot echoing through her ears and Moriarty's blood splattering her face.

River was there, calm and controlled, taking the gun from Layla's still uplifted hand. The glimmer in her eye finally reconnected Layla completely with reality. She sniffed, re-positioned Xander on her hip and tranquilly remarked for everyone who was watching her, all clearly waiting for an explanation. "You men who think you're so damn smart, you talk too much."

Sound returned.

"How did you nick my gun?!"

"Layla! Gun and baby, right there in your hands!"

Layla shrugged at John and the Doctor's scolding, uninterested and unconcerned. The only reaction that warranted her attention was Sherlock's and that tiny, nearly unnoticeable grin that pulled at his lips. She kissed Xander's head and blinked the sweat from her eyelashes.

"He threatened everything I love. That changes a person, you do what you must." She kept her eyes trained on Sherlock, and his blues flicked to hers, remaining there, holding the gaze for a few seconds. A simple look, no rage or passion, but, at last, quiet, easy understanding.

**Epilogue**

IN WHICH THE WORLD TURNS RIGHT SIDE UP

John nearly fainted from shock, ironically, when Sherlock handed him his violin upon exiting the TARDIS. He made to question it, but saw his flatmate's hands' occupation and thought otherwise. Sherlock was holding Xander with one and—by an unknown power—the other was placed on the small of Layla's back, showing her the simplest of affections as he escorted her to this armchair.

John smiled to himself and shrugged, setting the violin on the desk so that he could examine Layla's shoulder. Sherlock gave him space, moved to stand by window with Xander still in his arms.

"Now that everything is settled here, this domestic happiness—" John stepped away from Layla and looked back at the Doctor who was grinning at them, "—ah, so nice, River, isn't it? We've fixed it, they can go on and we can be on our way."

John shook his head, snorted at this absurd Doctor and then settled into his own chair.

"Doctor, we were hardly more than a taxi service. These people took care of themselves, we were almost in the way, however," River raised her voice so that she addressed everyone else, "it was lovely meeting you all." She stepped out of the TARDIS doorway and hugged Layla loosely before returning to hop back into the TARDIS. "Come on, Doctor. Time to see my parents, the real ones and let these people carry on without our—ahem—help."

The Doctor hopped around, shaking John's hand, kissing Layla on both cheeks, then scampering to Sherlock and Xander. He ruffled the baby's hair fondly, "lovely meeting you, little Xander. Take care of your mum and dad. They'll need you. Yes, yes. I know. She was right. She was right." He tapped the Xander's nose and then extended his hand to Sherlock.

"I am more than glad to have finally met you, Sherlock Holmes, I just wish it had been sooner. Friends?" The proffered hand was accepted cautiously and then the Doctor galloped back to the TARDIS. "Nice meeting you all, behave!" He shouted excitedly, and pulled closed the TARDIS door, the entire blue box de-materializing quickly before their eyes.

John sat back, pulled his ankle over his knee and listened. Quiet. Wonderful, delicious quiet he hadn't heard in days, at least it felt like days. It may have only been one day, or no day, he could have gone back in time for all he knew with that crazy box. He looked between Sherlock at the window, still and quiet and alive to Layla also still and quiet and alive, both technically miracles.

He paused a few seconds, hesitant to break such a godsend as this silence, but couldn't help himself, needed to ask it. "So… now what?"

Layla's eyes fluttered open and Sherlock spun around. That was it. He did it, the spell was broken. Sherlock set the baby back on Layla's lap and turned to pacing, the same manic energy as John had always known taking over him. "Now? Now we diffuse the rest of Moriarty's cells and—"  
"How about you sit down," Layla was up and handing Xander back to his father, "stop talking" Sherlock closed his mouth, brows raised but eyes soft, not angry, "and _properly_ get to know your son. I have some sleeping to do."

Sherlock sunk into his chair and both men watched Layla stride into the back room, Sherlock's room, and promptly slam shut the door. John, once again, sat quietly, reciprocating Sherlock's mildly bemused stare before chuckling.

"What are you laughing at?"

John shook his head and picked up yesterday's paper. "Nothing, Sherlock, nothing at all. I've just missed this."

**A/N: Okay, that's it. That's really it. **DW SPOILERS AHEAD, kind of** **

**This fic just needed to be done and before yesterday's DW episode, but oh well. Let's pretend the events of said episode are far after these and the whole not being able to reach the real world Ponds is just some freaky coincidence. **

**Anywho, thanks for reading. This has been an experience. Questions, comments and complaints will be answered with as much snark or kindness as I can muster according to the mood and tone of the respective input. Cheers as always!**


End file.
